It's Okay To Cry
by Blood Sucking Fox
Summary: Amunet's father died, leaving her questioning everything he ever told her, especially when the military decides to send one man to tail her everywhere. The poor sucker who landed the job? Why 2nd Lt Jean Havoc, of course!
1. Dirge

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**Chapter 1: Dirge**

I sat in the very back of the church, as far away from that dreadful organ as possible. The cries rising out of the dozens of pipes gave me a headache worse than nails to a chalkboard. Aside from the headache I was numb. At 26 years old, I hadn't thought that I'd be sitting in the back of a church witnessing my father's funeral so soon.

He looked so pale, lying in the casket at the front of the church. His graying chestnut hair combed back neatly. I hadn't seen it that neat except in pictures. His eyelids covered his green eyes that were so like mine. They were comfortable, caring, and loving. They held so much that I never wanted to forget, ever. But the memories had already begun to fade.

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and bit down on my lip harder. I was supposed to be the well composed baby girl of Brigadier General Larry Marshall. I was the one who had taken over the family business when mother died in a car accident without a single unnecessary tear. Of course I'd cried, but not in front of anyone. My father disapproved of showing weakness in public. Weaknesses were for your family and partner to know and nobody else.

The priest took his place next to my father, and the grinding in my head was put to rest as the organ ceased playing. I didn't want to hear the speech, didn't want to acknowledge that my father was gone. He wasn't really gone, only asleep. He always fell asleep in the weirdest places. I grinned to myself as I thought of the time I'd woken up to find him asleep on the kitchen counter with a knife in one hand, a carrot in the other, and his head resting on a thawing turkey. It was just another time like that. He'd just picked the wrong place. It was somebody else's funeral, not my father's. It could never be his.

My father was invincible. He'd survived gun shots, knives, assassins, and even alchemy. He always told me war stories, and he'd come back to mom and I after he'd served his time in the Ishbalan Revolt. I could just see the end of one of the scars peaking out of the cuff of his uniform sleeve. That scar had been from catching me before I fell in broken glass.

My father was a good man. A good soldier. A good person. Why was he gone? I couldn't help but wonder how the world had continued after he was gone. It wasn't fair. He'd never be around to see me get married, he wouldn't be there to give me away, and he wouldn't get to see his grandchildren. He'd been robbed of so much, and I couldn't help but wish that the world had stopped.

The priest finished his talk, and others began filtering up to the podium to say their own goodbyes. Several people went, all sending their condolences to his other friends, but not to me. They either didn't know I was sitting in the back of the church, or they didn't want to mention me. The last man went and there was a long pause. I debated going up, but had no idea what I would say. If I talked about my father's death, not only would I have to accept it as true, but I would break down in tears. Sitting in the back of the church with the occasional tear, and outright crying in front of the entire crowd were two different stories. Before I could get up to leave, another figure walked down the aisle.

My father's best friend stood behind the podium. He looked sickly, and paler than my father. He'd been like a second father. I'd known him my entire life. "Larry was a good man. He was my best friend. Everyone has addressed how good a soldier he was, and how kind he was. But they all neglected the two things about him that made him who he really was.

"His unwavering sense of loyalty. Even when Larry didn't like what his orders were, he stuck to them because he believed, truly believed that in the end, everything would turn out well. None of you probably know this, but he was against the intervention in Ishbal. He hated what they were doing there more than anything he'd ever hated before. But you'd never know that because he followed orders, he did what he was told, and he didn't question why. He trusted that our military would do the right thing every time.

"The second was his daughter, Amunet. He loved her more than his own life. Several times that he was about to give up, he thought of her and that pulled him through another battle. His baby girl needed him. She still needs him, even if it isn't as much. And all of you were cruel to her when she came into the office. Cruel to her when she smiled and said hello. Cruel to her when her mother died. And those acts of cruelty pulled Larry apart. He loved his job, and all of his coworkers – all of you – but you and his daughter were conflicting.

"And now, when she needs your support more than ever – now, at her father's funeral – you don't even acknowledge that she's in the room. Amunet is a sweet girl. She's tried to understand what Larry could see in all of you. Don't let yourself lose sight of the fact that Larry was close to your hearts. And don't tarnish his memory by shunning the only family he has left.

"Come up here Amunet. Come up here and look upon the other half of your father. He still lives, Amu. He lives in you, and he lives in them."

He beckoned for me to come up to the podium. I wiped at my eyes furiously. His speech had sent them rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't hold in the grief. I stood shakily and took a deep breath, ignoring the tears that still rolled down my cheeks. Father didn't want me to show weakness, and sorrow was a weakness. So I would pretend that my tears didn't matter.

I took a shaky step forward, and then another, and another, until I was standing next to my father's best friend. He turned me to face the crowd slowly and whispered in my ear, "He's not really gone, Amu. He's just watching you from another place now."

"You called her indifferent after she didn't cry at her mother's funeral. When your father believes in not showing weakness, sorrow is something you don't show. But when you love someone enough, those rules are forgotten. Look at Larry's daughter now and tell me that she isn't hurting more than the lot of you."

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_Okay people, Z is back!!! *gasp* I almost wrote Blood Sucking Fox. *sighs* Old habits take time to break... anyway, I just felt like posting this here and seeing if I get any hits. I know I'm on some people's alerts list, and I really don't want to be forgotten! So I'm updating with a new story that I'm writing, and have already have a 9 chapter head start on. Actually, on Luna it's two separate stories, so this version is a teeny bit different._

_I've changed around and split a couple chapters, so we'll see how it goes. Total there should be close to 25 chapters. Some number around there... we'll see..._

_Enjoy! And I think I may just have to change my penname back to Blood Sucking Fox because I was hit ith a wave of affection for the penname when I couldn't type it in this chapter. Then, I can say for real that Blood Sucking Fox has returned!_

_~Z_


	2. Enemies

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**Chapter 2: Enemies**

It'd been a week since my father's funeral. I sat in the back of the church, staring blankly at the table that my father had been lying on. He was now six feet under, with only a small, almost insignificant looking stone to mark that he was even there.

A blonde man came through the door and sat down in the row behind me. He was dressed normally enough. To anyone else, his decision to sit behind me was innocent, but to me, it just confirmed my suspicion.

This man had started appearing everywhere I went two days after the funeral. I'd never seen him before, but he showed up in my coffee shop and I hadn't been able to get rid of him since.

I had guessed that it started after I went to the military base the day after my father's funeral and demanded to see the commanding officer. I'd received a letter in the mail from my father that told me not to trust anyone in the military.

_To my beautiful daughter,_

_I hope my death has not taken too heavy of a toll on you. How do I know I'll be dead? This letter was left on the table in my quarters. Anything that is addressed and has a stamp will be sent upon the death of the inhabitant. The military is the reason I am dead._

_I can no longer keep this a secret, I am going to the Fuhrer with the information I have about a covert ops unit in Ishbal. He will be able to help in fixing this matter. If you get this letter, I was intercepted._

_Do not trust the military._

_I love you._

I wrapped my hand around the letter in my pocket. I'd gone to the military base and threatened to kill anyone I found out was involved in the death of my father; anyone that even _looked_ like they might know something.

I stood up and walked out of the church. The blonde man followed a few minutes later, keeping his distance. The military really was dumb. Did they think I wouldn't notice being followed? My father had taught me all he knew. If I really wanted to lose the man, I could.

I was insulted by their lack-luster attempts, and their obvious nervousness that I'd follow through with the threats. As much as I wanted to follow through, I wouldn't. I'd never killed anybody, and I wasn't about to start. My life wouldn't be spent behind bars for a fit of rage. Rage was another weakness I wouldn't show. It'd slipped the day after my father's funeral. The letter was not the best thing for me to have received so early. My wounds hadn't even started to heal.

I turned down an alleyway that was a shortcut to my coffee shop. I was late for my shift. Even as the owner I couldn't be late. Nobody could fire me, but I could lose what little staff I had. However, I needed to confront my shadow first.

Before he rounded the corner, I climbed up a fire escape and splayed out against the wall.

The man came around the corner. "Mustang is going to kill me." He said before jogging past where I was. I dropped from the fire escape with the intent of following him, but I landed in a puddle of water. The splashing noise made him turn around.

I stepped out of the puddle and took a couple steps towards him. "Look. I know you're following me. I know it's because I made a scene at the military building. What I want to know is why you were so obvious."

He'd drawn his gun. He wasn't pointing it at me, but he looked like he was deliberating whether he should. He was chewing on the cigarette in his mouth, and had a surprised look on his face.

"Couldn't you guys just leave me alone?" I asked him. I put my hands out, palm up, to show him that I wasn't armed. "I'm in a fragile mental state at the moment. In case you hadn't noticed, my father died a week ago."

He put his gun away. "I wish I could, Miss Marshall. I'm under orders."

I sighed, "I guess that's true. It's just hard to get over my father's death with a reminder following me around everywhere I go."

"I was that obvious, huh?" He asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. I take it you aren't usually a field officer."

He shook his head.

"Look, it's hard to do anything personal with you tailing me. Could I have tomorrow without a tail? I promise I won't do anything. I just need to take care of a couple of personal issues, and I'd rather not be followed."

"I can't do that. You should know that by now. Your father was in the military your entire life. Orders are orders Miss Marshall."

I took a deep breath. It was hard to focus on the conversation. I wanted to pay my respects to my father alone. And I couldn't cry my eyes out with somebody posted outside my window. I needed a mental health day where I could show my weaknesses and not have somebody there to see it.

"Please. I don't even need all day. Just a couple hours," I was desperate, and it was coming out in my voice.

He shook his head. "I wish I could, but I can't. If I don't follow you, someone else will tail you instead."

"Look, you want to know the truth? I want to go visit my father, alone. Tail me to the cemetery, but please, please, please, don't follow me in. You've got no idea how much that would mean to me. I'll go back to the military base and apologize. I'll get rid off all the weapons in my apartment. I'll move to another city. I'll do anything you want. Just let me have an hour alone."

He just looked at me. I was fighting tears again. Stupid emotions. I needed to get them back in check. I tried to hold his gaze as long as possible, but the look in his eyes was like my father's every time he got a call from a commanding officer. Conflicted. I had to look at the ground.

"Just think about it, okay? I don't want to be enemies. But if we can't negotiate, then I'll be forced to give you the slip. I'm late for my shift." I pushed past him and continued on my way to the coffee shop. I was wiping my eyes to keep from crying at being reminded by him of my father.

The soldier sat in the back of the coffee shop, fiddling with an unlit cigarette. He wouldn't look over at me, which I didn't mind, but the fact that he was there was unnerving, as always. It was around closing time, and I was bored. I'd already played solitaire several times, and was growing increasingly twitchy.

"So, I'm going to be closing up shop fairly shortly. Do you want anything before I start shutting everything down?" I asked him, pouring myself a cup of tea.

He looked up, as if from a dream, and gave a half smile. "No, thank you."

"Okay, suit yourself." I came out from behind the counter with my tea and sat down across from him. "I never got your name, did I soldier?"

"No, Miss Marshall, you didn't. I'm 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc, and as you'd already gathered, I've been ordered to follow you around." He stopped playing with the cigarette and just put it back into his mouth.

"Well Mr. Havoc, I don't envy you. My life is boring. But I guess it beats paperwork."

He snorted, "I'll say."

"So, did you think about what I asked for?" I asked, taking a sip of tea. I was trying to be as natural as possible about asking for time to myself.

"I did."

"And?"

"I'll give you the time, but you have an hour. And that's it. I'll be outside the cemetery, waiting."

I grinned happily and almost spilled my tea as I set it down. "Thank you so much! You've got no idea how much that means to me!"

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_Hey guys, it's Saturday! So here's my first weekly update! I've also got a surprise for you on Tuesday, so I hope you like it! :) I really love this story, it's my newest baby, and I haven't had this much fun writing since I finished _Rogue Ninja Can't Afford To Love_ which is sad considering how badly that story turned out... I hope this one is on a whole different skill level! And I'm eagerly awaiting feedback via reviews and messages. A dollar for your thoughts!_

~Z


	3. Cemetery

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**Chapter 3: Cemetery**

"I'm right here when you get done. Don't leave through any other exit. After an hour, I'm coming in to look for you," Havoc spouted off. He reminded me of my mother, except that she'd been worrying about my safety. Havoc was worried about his job.

"I think I've got it. Could you repeat it one more time, just to be sure?" I asked, only somewhat mockingly.

Havoc took a breath to start in again, and then it clicked. "Oh, right. I'll stop talking now. But remember, you only get an hour."

"I think I have it. An hour," I repeated, before walking into the Cemetery, alone.

My father's grave was towards the back of the Cemetery, and the grave markers on either side on his were easily ten times as big with large spidery scrawl that said the names of the deceased, the birth & death dates, and a heartfelt message from the family. Father's was simple; a small round stone with his name. That's all I'd been able to afford.

"Hello," I said weakly, falling to my knees at his gravestone. I was numb all over. I was here to accept that he was dead and move on. To spill all of my pain and sorrow here and leave it when I left.

"You didn't give me enough time. Why did you have to die now? I need you. I need somebody. I can't live alone, I'm afraid. Daddy, I-" I had to break off and swallow the sob that was coming. "-can't do this alone. Please. Why'd you have to leave me?" I was sobbing by the time I'd finished asking him. I fell forward and hugged his gravestone, sobbing into it.

He'd left me. He'd left me in this world alone. And I didn't – couldn't – stand alone. It was unfair, the entire world was unfair. I was letting out all of my pent up emotions. I was numb from the fact that I'd lost both of my parents, frustrated because I was alone, and angry at the world for taking the two things that mattered to me away.

"Miss Marshall? Are you still–? Are you okay?!" Havoc had come looking for me. I was still bent over my father's headstone, and was crying. He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "Miss Marshall, are you okay?"

I shook my head violently, but instead of trying to stop crying, I simply lunged forward and grabbed Havoc, squeezing him while I cried. "W-why am I alone? W-what did I-I do t-to deserve this? I-I don't w-want t-to be alone." I blubbered, crying into his chest.

I think he was shocked, because it took a couple of seconds before he started rubbing my back soothingly. "You're not alone. I'm here," He told me, puzzled by my question, no doubt.

"Then p-promise me you w-won't leave me. I-I don't w-want to be alone. I-I'm sc-scared," I blubbered again. Only being half aware of what I was actually doing. I was hysterical, well, almost hysterical.

"Don't be scared! Um, I won't leave you. Just stop crying, everything is okay." Havoc stumbled over his words. "Let's get back to your car, where you can sit down out of the mud."

I nodded half heartedly, still crying. I had a bunch of pent up emotions, and for some reason, once I'd pulled the plug on one, the rest of the corks popped out and a whole slew of emotions came out.

"Good. This way." Havoc instructed me. I was crying so hard that I couldn't see, and I ended up tripping over something. I was back on the ground, surprised by the change in scenery; I stopped crying long enough to look up as Havoc picked me up bridal-style. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

His words comforted me, and as he walked back to my car, carrying me, I stopped crying. I still wouldn't let go of his shirt, but the tears stopped coming, and I could breathe again.

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_Okay, the majority of the beginning of this story is split into rather short chapters, but it was originally for a challenge, so what was I gonna do?_

_Oh! And SURPRISE! I updated for you before Saturday because I'm going to be gone for a couple weeks and won't be able to update (most likely). So feel loved, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)_

_~Z_


	4. Enigma

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**Chapter 4: Enigma**

I woke up on my couch, still fully clothed and muddy. My cheeks were sticky from tears, and my mouth tasted like salt. I sat up and looked around the room. Everything was in order, except that Havoc was sleeping in the chair beside the couch. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth even while he slept, and there was a mug on the coffee table.

I sat up and took a second look at Havoc. How had he managed to get into my apartment? How had I managed to get into my apartment? Last I remembered Havoc was carrying me back to my car so that I could calm down.

_Oh god…_ I'd broken down in front of someone else. I'd shown my weakness to somebody who was supposed to see me as emotionless, someone with no weaknesses. And yet, even though I'd shown him that weakness, he hadn't left in disgust, he'd picked me up and removed me from the situation.

I mentally smacked myself. What was I thinking? He couldn't possibly actually care. He was simply doing his job. If he'd left me in the cemetery, he would have had to stay, too. That would have been an inconvenience. Nobody did nice things for innocent reasons. Everybody has their selfish desires, and if it benefits somebody else, that's okay. If it doesn't, no big deal.

Havoc stirred when I moved to get more comfortable and the couch squeaked.

"Oh! Miss Marshall… I'm sorry I fell asleep. Are you feeling better?" Havoc asked.

"Yes," I stood up and looked towards the kitchen. My stomach growled loudly.

"That's good. You were really out of it when I got you in the cemetery," Havoc stood as well.

I scratched the back of my head and picked up the mug on the coffee table, avoiding eye contact. I turned towards the kitchen before I started responding. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not quite sure what came over me. Would you like some breakfast since you're here?"

I set down the mug on the counter and smacked myself on the forehead. Havoc was still in the living room area, and wasn't a witness to my self abuse. Why had I asked if he wanted breakfast? I'd broken down in front of the man, an almost complete stranger, and now he was in my apartment, without my permission. Instead of the perfectly sane response of shooing him out the door with a broom, I'd invited him to have breakfast. My mind was going faster than I'd thought it would.

"What're you making?" Havoc came into the small kitchen and looked over my shoulder.

"Nothing yet." I stiffened, nervous about having somebody that close to me. "Do you have a preference?" I picked up the mug again and moved it to the sink on the other side of the kitchen. As far away from Havoc as possible. It wasn't that I'd had problems with space as a child; I'd just never been in a relationship. Contact from other people of any kind made me nervous. I wasn't quite sure why, but it did.

"Eggs?" I caught a shrug out of the corner of my eye and half smiled. He obviously felt awkward about this as well, but why he didn't just make up an excuse to go back to his post outside my apartment was beyond me.

"I think I can manage that," I scooted past Havoc as quickly as possible and pulled open the refrigerator door. The cold felt good on my face as I pulled out a carton of eggs and took it over to the stove.

"Do you need any help?"

I looked over at Havoc, who, besides the semi-awkward look on his face, seemed to fit in the doorframe like it was made for him to stand there. He was obviously uncomfortable and wanted to be given something to do.

"Um, you could get out two plates and some forks from those drawers," I offered. He pounced on the opportunity gratefully.

After a very silent and awkward breakfast, I took the dishes to the sink. The questions of why Havoc had brought me back to my apartment and why he'd stayed all night had been nagging at the back of my head the entire meal. I'd already lost control of my mouth and emotions once, what was losing control of my mouth one more time?

"So, 2nd Lt Havoc, why'd you bring me back to my apartment?" I asked over the running water that was filling the small kitchen sink. He poked his head into the kitchen with a weird look on his face.

"I couldn't just leave you out in the mud," He replied, coming to stand next to me. He grabbed the towel and waited for me to start washing dishes.

"I know, but why'd you bring me back to my apartment, not just my car?" I pressed, sloshing soapy water in a mug.

There was a pause as he dried the mug and set it on the counter. "Well, you fell asleep while I was carrying you back to your car. I couldn't just slump you in the driver's seat and wait for you to wake up. I knew where your apartment was, and you had the key in your purse."

"Fair enough," I told him as I handed him a plate. "But why did you stay?"

Havoc stopped drying the plate, and wouldn't look at me when I looked up at him. "I was worried… You weren't in the best condition when you fell asleep. And, you had me promise not to leave you… So I didn't."

I nearly dropped the pan I'd been scrubbing. Had I heard him right? He hadn't left because I, in my almost hysterical state, had asked him to promise not to leave me? That was something I'd never heard before. I wasn't sure I understood. People didn't keep promises. That's what my father had taught me. He'd drilled it into my head. People didn't keep promises. And yet, here, standing next to me, was a man who'd just admitted to keeping one even if it'd made him uncomfortable.

"Oh…" I couldn't think. What else had my father been wrong about? "Thank you, but I wasn't right in the head… You didn't have to keep that promise."

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_Well, here's another chapter... my regular updates haven't been so regular... Sorry abut that -sweatdrop-.... But I hope you enjoyed, and I'll try to get back into the swing of writing and posting (yet again)._


	5. Memorize

**Chapter 5: Memorize**

Havoc left after breakfast, although I had no doubt that he would be back. He had to come back, that was his job, to watch me. But I wasn't thinking too deeply on that matter. What he'd said and done stunned me. They weren't what my father had taught me to expect.

I lay on my bed and watched the ceiling fan spin in circles, casting lazy shadows on my ceiling. The slight breeze from the fan ruffled my hair and made a low, comforting humming noise.

As I stared at the fan, I tried to memorize the look on his face when he'd said that he was keeping a promise. It was so honest and open. It was something I hadn't seen before in anyone. Not even my father; he never let down his guard. I had a hard time not believing what Havoc had told me, as much as it went against everything that my father had taught me.

A set of rules that kept one protected. I don't even think my mother was ever let into his world completely. There were four major ones that father had drilled into my head.

Number One. **Trust Nobody.** Nobody deserves that trust. They will use it to get what they want and then shatter it and destroy you.

Number Two. **People Don't Keep Promises.** If it inconveniences them, they won't do it.

Number Three. **People Don't Do Nice Things For Innocent Reasons.** There is always an ulterior motive, if it betters them, they will help, if it doesn't do a thing for them, they won't help.

Number Four. **Never Show Emotion.** Emotion is weakness, and weakness makes you vulnerable, vulnerability leads to disgusting others. If others a disgusted by you, you will get nowhere in life.

They weren't the prettiest set of rules a parent could teach their child, but it was what I grew up knowing. It was what I currently lived by. It was the rules that I'd seen broken over the course of a week. Well, a few of them. Number One was still holding firm, but it was quickly slipping out of my grasp. Havoc had disproved Numbers Two and Three, and I'd managed to break Four.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Nothing more seemed real. My world had been shattered completely. My father died, leaving me alone in this world. And the four rules I lived by were coming apart at the seams. What had been the point of memorizing them if they were false? And what else had father lied about?

I pulled the letter out of my pocket and unfolded it for the millionth time.

_To my beautiful daughter,_

_I hope my death has not taken too heavy of a toll on you. How do I know I'll be dead? This letter was left on the table in my quarters. Anything that is addressed and has a stamp will be sent upon the death of the inhabitant. The military is the reason I am dead._

_I can no longer keep this a secret, I am going to the Fuhrer with the information I have about a covert ops unit in Ishbal. He will be able to help in fixing this matter. If you get this letter, I was intercepted._

_Do not trust the military._

_I love you._

After reading it again, I scrutinized everything. My father had trusted that the rules would be followed. And he'd trusted that nobody would open and read this letter before it was given to me. Did that not go against Rule One? He'd also trusted me with the secret. For a man who preached not to trust, he had written this letter with lots of trust.

He'd also trusted that the Fuhrer would listen to him! And then help if the need arose. I couldn't believe it. I now had actions that went against every rule in the book. Why hadn't I noticed this earlier?

I'd already wasted twenty six years of my life in the belief of my father's rules. I hadn't had a normal childhood full of the experiences that should have been there. I didn't cry when I was hurt, which had gotten me teased. I'd never had a boyfriend, although I'd been asked. I couldn't trust them. It went against my father's rules. I'd never accepted help from anybody because I didn't want whatever agendas they had to be furthered. The more I thought about it, the worse it seemed to me.

Children believe anything.

That was the first line in my new book of guidelines. Not even rules, because guidelines can be broken without cause for shock. Maybe if my father had called them guidelines, I would still believe them now that I had proof against them. But he'd called them rules. Rules are things that are never broken. At least in my parent's house, they never were.

With a dejected sigh I got up and dressed. As much as I wanted to sit and contemplate what I'd memorized as a child, I had errands that needed doing, whether or not Havoc was following me.

I left my father's letter on my bed. I didn't want it near me anymore. It disgusted me that he'd broken his own rules. A lingering effect of my upbringing: People who break the rules are trash.

_Short and a little odd chapter, but it's what I wrote, and I think it works out well. ;P Please Review! It keeps me motivated to write!_


	6. Broken

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**Chapter 6: Broken**

With heavy legs I walked to the market with my grocery list. I bought everything, still in a numb, almost unresponsive state. I was still contemplating what I should believe. Not a normal problem for an adult from what I'd gathered from other people, but it still bothered me. The question kept repeating…

_What else had father been wrong about?_

As I unlocked the door to my apartment, the thought still hadn't gone away. I hadn't even registered if Havoc was following me that day or not. Being followed wasn't even in the back of my head. It was clinging to my pant leg, trying not to fall off.

And it did fall off. It fell off the moment the front door swung open.

It looked like a cyclone had hit. Things were everywhere. The picture of my father lay on the carpet just outside the reach of the door when it swung around. The glass was shattered; the picture ripped in two, and the frame was split in multiple places. I was in shock. Who would have done this?

I walked slowly into the kitchen to grab a knife, just in case the person who had done this was still inside. On the floor, broken into tiny, tiny pieces were the plates that my mother had given to me in her will. The plates I'd eaten off of almost every day since I was born.

I carefully stepped over the plate fragments, grabbed a knife, and went into my bedroom. The mattress was against the wall, sheets spread out on the floor. There was a pile of ash in the middle of one of the sheets, and I could only assume that it was the letter my father had written me.

On the wall with the door, which I only noticed after picking up the ash of the ruined letter, was a message in still drying red paint. It was dripping and looked eerily like blood, but was the wrong shade of red.

_We Know Where You Live._

_We Know Where You Work._

_We Know You're Suspicious._

_We Know You Know Something._

_We Killed Your Father._

_You're Next._

_Run If You Know What's Good For You._

The last line almost seemed like an afterthought. It was spaced and offset slightly, I wondered if they'd decided to be lenient if I fled.

I didn't know, I didn't care, and I was going to trust their advice. Whoever they were, whatever they planned to do, they'd be able to do it whether or not I ran.

The ashes of my father's latter lay forgotten on the sheet as I picked up several clothing items that had been strewn around the room and shoved them into a small brown backpack. I had my money with me, and I saw no point in trying to find anything else to take.

I jogged down the stairs and out the back of the building. Whoever had broken into my apartment might still be outside. And Havoc would see the mess they made when I didn't reappear… if he was following me, that is.

I would not go back to that apartment. I had enough money that I could survive for awhile. And then I could sell my coffee shop and find a new job in some other city where there was no military base.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_*slinks away* Okay, I admit it, I'd totally spaced this entire website, and my promise to update on a regular basis! My bad....  
But I haven't really written anything new on it either... so I guess prolonging catching up as long as possible is a potentially good thing..._

_But I must say, I'm surprised at the number of people who've added this story to their favorites list. That's actually what prompted me to update, was an email saying somebody else had added the story... which made me feel guilt... And hence, I'm here bringing you an update._

_So yes, I feel special, and you should too. But I'd feel even more special if you'd review for me? *whistles* _(I'm not pleading for reviews here *wink*wink*nudge*nudge*

_Anyways, thanks. She you next chapter!  
~Z_


	7. Envy

**Chapter 7: Envy**

The backpack didn't weigh anything when I'd first picked it up, but only an hour later, it felt like a lead weight. That backpack was the reminder that I'd never go home again, and probably never see anyone I knew again, either. That wasn't so bad, though. I didn't have many friends, and my family was gone.

I walked through the park in the middle of town to avoid the major roads that wove through the city. I didn't want to be seen, but the trick with that is not to appear like you don't want to be seen. To a normal passerby, you must look at ease, comfortable, and NOT suspicious in any way, shape or form. That's the hard part when you have a backpack full of clothes on your back and no idea where you're going.

I knew I had to get to the train station, but the sun was already beginning to set. As I walked briskly through the park, I paused at a clearing. A couple only slightly older than me sat on a picnic bench holding hands. The man's other hand was draped over the woman's shoulder, and her head rested on his. They were both smiling warmly and looked contentedly at the two little children that were running around and laughing.

I smiled remorsefully, wondering if I'd ever have that. There were days I fantasized about not being alone, but the reality was that I probably would be, forever. I never gave off a good first impression, and nobody stuck around long enough to see a second.

How wonderful it must be to have someone who cares about you, someone who would wrap their arms around you to keep you warm and safe. Somebody who knew everything about you and you knew everything about them. And you stayed together anyways. I'd never known the feeling, but I'd wondered about it so many times, I wanted to know it so badly.

The man looked over at me and smiled before whispering something in his wife's ear. The two stood and called their children over to them. The four came towards me, greeted me kindly and continued past. I sighed, I'd most likely ruined the moment for them. A stranger staring at them with a goofy smile on her face would be enough to ruin it for me.

I looked down at my watch and sighed. _6:39_. The last train would leave at 6:40, and there was no way I'd get across the city to catch it. And there was also no way that I'd go back to my apartment, or check into a hotel. I might as well search the park for a warm place to sleep.

It was a terrible, crushing feeling, walking through the park and knowing I was alone. Knowing that in some way the man that had taught me everything, my father, was responsible for the predicament I currently found myself in.

I curled up under a tree and stared up at the sky through the branches. With the setting sun, the clouds had turned pink and orange, and the sky was a beautiful purple. At least the weather looked pleasant from where I sat. I was hopeful that I wouldn't get rained on.

* * *

_*Guilty Look* Oh Snap! I Haven't updated in a LONG LONG time! Blame NaNoWriMo!... Okay, so blame lack of an idea... okay... blame... me..._

_I'm sorry I totally spaced this!!! I haven't been able to write on it in quite some time though. This chapter is way past due, I agree, but it came at last right...? And... it was cruelly short..._

_Hopefully I'll see you sooner than later!_

_~Z_


	8. Rain

**Chapter 8: Rain**

I was yanked back into the world of the living by a loud clap of thunder and cold pellets that stung my face and hands. I looked around wildly, recalling that I was outside only after another loud crash from the sky and a flash so bright it was blinding.

I stood up and sneezed. My joints were stiff as I took a step forward. Much longer without waking up and I wouldn't have been able to move.

I looked at my surroundings, attempting to identify a better shelter in the almost complete darkness. Aside from the occasional lightning flash, there were beams of light that shone through the trees, and they were moving. Worse case scenarios came into my mind as I heard an unfamiliar voice scream over the tumult of rain, "AMUNET! AMUNET MARSHALL! WHERE ARE YOU?"

The people who had trashed my apartment had to be looking for me. They'd planned for me to run. They were going to hunt me down like an animal. That was what came to mind. I caught a flash of light headed my way and did the only thing I could think of at the time. Climb the tree.

I watched as a dark figure came into view. They stood under the very tree I was perched in and moved the light around the trees. "Mustang is going to kill me." The figure spoke and sighed. I didn't comprehend why a car would kill someone, only that I recognized the voice. I was still out of it, going on instinct alone.

The figure took something out of his mouth and kicked the tree. He must have kicked it hard, or my backpack was ready to fall off anyway, because it fell out and landed right in front of him. He jumped back and shined the light up into the tree.

I let go of one branch to shield my eyes as he exclaimed, "Amunet!"

I lost my balance as I put my other arm up as well. The stupid flashlight was way too bright. I fell out of the tree and landed on my backpack. It was a good thing I hadn't been high in the tree or I could have killed myself.

As it was, I moaned in pain as I rolled off of my arm and cradled it gently. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" I muttered under my breath.

Havoc had dropped the flashlight and run forward. "Are you okay?!" He asked, pulling his jacket off and offering it to me.

"I think I broke it," I managed to get out between gritted teeth. It hurt so badly I didn't register how close Havoc had gotten. I lifted my head and bonked it on his chin. "Ouch!" I hollered involuntarily as I tried to rub my head with my broken arm.

I looked up slowly again and saw Havoc rubbing his chin. He spit out the butt of a cigarette that landed next to the other part. As much pain as I was in, and how cold I was, I still managed to grin. I'd hit my head against his so hard he'd bit his cigarette in half.

"Do you want some help?" Havoc asked, having been satisfied that his chin would be okay. I'd gone back to nursing my arm as best I could.

It took every fiber of my being not to respond with my habitual "No." I nodded weakly and tried to stand up. The attempt was pathetic, about halfway into standing position, my knees froze. They wouldn't straighten any farther. I cursed the cold as I put my arms out to stop me from falling on the ground too hard. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. This was going to hurt.

Instead of my hands making contact with hard, soggy ground, my face found a hard, warm surface. I opened my eyes in surprise and could just make out the white shirt in the faint light.

"Be careful, Amunet. You're hurt." The voice came from above me, as a warm, dry jacket was wrapped around my shoulders.

I sneezed in response and a chill went down my spine. I'd been cold for awhile and the warmth of the jacket and Havoc was a nice change. I closed my eyes and smiled warmly, the pain in my arm as forgotten as it could be.

"We need to get you home."

My eyes snapped open and I shook my head. "No. I can't go home. The note on the wall…" I looked up at him from under the coat. He'd pulled out an umbrella that was keeping the two of us from becoming any more soaked than we already were.

"We saw it. That's why we've been out here looking for you. We know who did it, and we're going to keep you safe until they're caught." Havoc put his free hand on my shoulder and gently extracted me from his chest. Bending awkwardly, he picked up the dropped flashlight and stuck it in his pocket.

"Really?" I asked after I'd processed the information.

"Yes. You'll be staying with one of the officers. But let's get you out of the cold before you get any sicker or wetter."

I nodded and took a step forward. My knees succeeded in locking up again and I fell forward. A quick arm around my waist was the only thing that saved _my_ arm from further damage. It was inches from the ground, stretched to its full extent when I opened my eyes. I pulled it back into my chest as Havoc reeled me back into a standing position.

He put the umbrella in the pocket of his jacket, which I was wearing. It was nice and warm, and smelled only faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne. "I'm going to pick you up, Amunet. Is that okay?" He looked a little apprehensive about it.

I nodded and sneezed again. What a stupid way to get sick, and I must have looked even stupider having to be rescued. I felt my feet leave the ground and the side of my head came to rest against his chest. The heat thawed my ear, which was frozen solid. I became aware of just how cold I really was.

"Mustang, I found her!" Havoc called. It was the last thing I remember before falling asleep in his arms, again.

* * *

_This chapter is for ColorsOfBlack because she's been bugging me AND REVIEWING!!!! XD Z 3 You!_

_And I hope you like this chapter! It's all been planned out, but I haven't been able to write! I'm so sorry, but after the next two chapters, I'll be out until I get time to write! So I'm sorry, but there's only two in the wings right now. Please forgive me! DX_


	9. Aftermath

**Chapter 9: Aftermath**

I woke up in a white room. At first I thought maybe I was dreaming. Everything was white. I noticed a glass of water on the table and became aware of the fact that my throat was extremely dry. I went to pick it up and found that my arm was restricted by a blue cast.

I'd broken my arm, I recalled slowly. I remembered what had occurred the night before, and looked around the room again. I must be in a hospital. That made sense.

The doors opened and two men in blue uniforms and a nurse entered. "Ah, you're awake. Good, good. We can get your release* papers in order." The nurse handed me a clipboard. I signed it halfheartedly and handed it back to her.

The nurse smiled and addressed the two men. "When she's dressed she can go." And she left the room.

I looked at the men for the first time. One was Havoc, who looked almost lost without a cigarette in his mouth, and the other was a man with black hair and eyes to match.

"Amunet, this is Colonel Roy Mustang," Havoc introduced the man.

I nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"As it is to meet you Miss Marshall. But we have pressing matters to attend to. You are in danger and we feel it would be best for you to stay with one of us until it is resolved. And, as you are most familiar with Havoc, I think it would be best for you to stay with him."

The man's face was serious, but I could tell he was doing this as much because I knew Havoc as because he wanted to see Havoc's face when he told me. It was surprisingly calm, but you could tell by looking at him closely that he was squirming a bit on the inside.

"So, please get dressed and Havoc will take you home." A cocky smile graced his lips before he turned and walked out of the room, Havoc at his heels.

I got dressed to the best of my ability with a cast on, and walked out into the waiting room. Havoc was there, but the Colonel wasn't with him.

"I hope you don't mind the arrangement," Havoc said awkwardly as I followed him outside.

"I don't mind. I'm glad, really," I smiled warmly at him, which caught him off guard.

He'd been my protector in a way for the last week. Realizing that also made me realize that I wasn't alone, not really. Havoc had been there with me when it counted. I was ready to open up my world for him.

He smiled awkwardly and I closed the space between us to give him a hug. "Thanks for promising. I needed it."

He wrapped his arms around me after the initial shock had worn off. "What changed your mind?"

I looked up at him and knew that when the time came, I'd be ready to try anything. "The Rain."

* * *

* are the forms that you sign to be allowed to leave a hospital called release forms? It's what came to mind, but it makes it sound like a prison…

* * *

_Technically, this should be the end and I should start up a sequel, but instead I'm just going to combine the two together. But know that this is all the further it was originally planned. Everything beyond this point is a "new" story.... Oh, and SURPRISE!! Z remembered to update! XD_

_Reviews make my day and encourage my muse to help me! ;3 So help Vince help me and review! See ya next chappy!_


	10. Missing

**Chapter Ten: Missing...?**

I stood in the doorway clutching my backpack to my chest and examined the room before me. It was a mess. There were magazines, books, clothing, and who knows what else spread all over the place. The only clear spot in the entire room was the coffee table, which had an empty coffee mug and a half full ash tray set in the center. The whole apartment smelled like cigarette smoke, which I didn't mind, although it wasn't the most pleasant smell in the world.

"I don't have guests much," Havoc confessed, accompanied by a nervous laugh.

"It's fine," I took a step towards him, attempting not to step on anything that looked important. "My place wasn't that clean, either."

We stood in silence looking at everything and anything but one another. The hug outside the hospital had been followed by a very silent and awkward car ride. Everything in a relationship was new to me, and I couldn't bring myself to bring it up. It was almost like it hadn't happened.

"So, um," I began, trying to find a subject to discuss, "Where will I be sleeping?" I looked over at him for an answer.

"You can have my bed," Havoc told me, looking past me at a semi-open door. I turned and tried to look through the opening, which only revealed more clutter on the floor.

"Where will you sleep then?" I turned around the room slowly and noted that there was only one other door, behind which was most likely the bathroom.

"On the couch I guess."

I turned and looked at him. "But it's your house 2nd Lt. I'll sleep on the couch." In truth, I really didn't feel comfortable sleeping in somebody else's bed if I could avoid it, especially if they weren't going to be sleeping in a bed. That simple fact would have kept me up most of the night with guilt.

"If you're sure that's not a problem. Despite the erm… circumstances… you're still my guest. And please, call me Jean." Havoc told me, looking at the clutter ridden couch that would serve as my bed for who knows how long.

"It's not a problem," I assured him, and set my backpack down on the coffee table. I picked up some of the magazines and set them in a neat pile. "We'll just have to clean this place up a little bit, first."

Jean nodded, "I'm sorry it's such a mess." He helped me to turn the clutter into somewhat manageable piles over the course of the day. It wasn't easy going for me in a cast, but it still worked.

-

My stomach let out a horrible groan as I sat on the couch reading. It was the first day since I'd left the hospital, and I'd been left to my own devices. Jean had gone to work like a good employee and had told me to help myself to whatever I felt like.

So, I'd cleaned the bathroom, which had been horribly disgusting. I didn't understand how somebody could go without cleaning their bathroom. I'd followed that with doing the dishes, and then lost myself in a random book from Jean's measly collection.

I stood and went to the kitchen. I pulled the refrigerator door open and discovered an expired bottle of milk, and nothing else. How some people can live in total chaos without food was beyond me, but it obviously worked. I checked the pantry for similar results, and sighed.

"I guess I'm going grocery shopping," I mumbled, pulling my wallet out of my backpack and the spare key from the coffee table where Jean had left it. I didn't know exactly where a market was, but there obviously had to be something around there somewhere.

Looking back on the decision, it wasn't very smart with the potential that somebody was still looking for me, but I stopped in the closest shop and asked about the market.

The market was HUGE. Not only were there several indoor places, but local vendors lined the streets. I'd never seen anything like it in Central myself, and still don't know where the farmers' farms are, but it was impressive. Anything you could possibly want in terms of produce was available. I must have spent hours going through all of the little tents, my hunger forgotten.

I ended up with an armful of bags full of fruits and vegetables. I smiled happily as I bit into an apple. My stomach accepted the food and wanted more. By the time I had gotten back to the apartment building no apples remained. They'd just been so juicy and tender that I couldn't stop eating them, and I'd begun in on the carrots as well.

A bread cart out of the corner of my eye distracted me mid bite and I felt in my wallet to see if I had any money left. It wasn't much, but I brightened at the sight of the sign. I had just enough for a loaf.

~*~

Havoc stuck the key in the deadbolt and turned. The soft 'click' told him it had unlocked. He swung the door open, expecting to find Amunet sitting on the couch looking bored. He was alarmed when nobody was in the main room.

"Amunet?" He called, closing the door behind him and placing his hand on the handle of his gun. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but he could never be too careful.

He checked his bedroom, even though he knew she wouldn't be in there even if she was home, and wasn't surprised to find it empty. The kitchen was empty, too, but the dishes had been done and were neatly stacked next to the sink. Next, Havoc knocked on the bathroom door and when there was no response, he opened it slowly. Nobody was in the bathroom either!

Where had she gone?! Jean returned to the main room in a bit of a panic. If something had happened to Amunet while he had been at work... He would kill himself. Not to mention Mustang would kill him, too!

Mustang had sent him home early to make sure that Amunet was safe, after of course, the Flame Alchemist had chewed him out for leaving his charge unattended.

"Amunet?" Havoc called again to the empty apartment, biting back the sinking feeling in his stomach. He noted now, in a desperate hope that Amunet wasn't kidnapped or dead, that the spare key was gone. Hopefully that meant she was okay, wherever she had disappeared to.

Havoc ran back into the hall and proceeded down one flight of stairs, hoping to find Amunet somewhere within the building. As the door to the stairs shut behind him, the other staircase door on the other side of the hallway opened, and a very happy looking Amunet appeared, carrying several large bags. She used the key and was surprised to find the deadbolt unlocked already.

"Huh. I thought I locked it," She mumbled to herself as she pushed the door open and entered.

~*~

I set the heavy bags on the counter and proceeded to empty the contents into the refrigerator. I left the bread on the counter on a plate and put the bags under the sink. You never know when bags will come in handy.

I pulled a knife out of a drawer and sliced off a piece of bread. I fished around the cabinets again and came up with a jar of peanut butter that hadn't expired yet. Satisfied, I began to spread the peanut butter over the bread slice when the front door opened.

"Mustang is going to kill me," A voice said. I had to stifle a laugh. I'd only known Jean for two weeks, and already he'd managed to use that sentence on three occasions.

I picked up my peanut butter bread and walked into the other room where Jean was slumped forward on the couch, a fresh cigarette in his mouth.

"What'd you do this time?" I asked, sitting down next to him.

Jean just turned and stared at me in amazement.

"What?" I asked, looking away. I set my bread down on the table and leaned back, eyes closed, trying to ignore the stare.

Two arms wrapped around me and pulled me into Havoc. "Thank god! I thought something happened to you!" My eyes popped open and a looked at Jean in disbelief.

"Why would you think that?" I asked, trying to hide my face as my ears and cheeks started to heat up.

"I came home and you weren't here. If you'd been kidnapped while I was supposed to be protecting you..." He trailed off, looking away and releasing his hold on me.

"Oh... I was out grocery shopping," I smiled, the majority of me ignoring the seriousness in his voice.

Jean chuckled without humor and looked at me again, "I forgot about food."

* * *

_Okey-Dokey People, we're into what I consider the sequel on Luna. I'm writing, but not quickly. However it's more quickly than it was. So hopefully I can update every two weeks. :) Or maybe even every week, depending on how fast I end up writing the stuff. Right now I'm trying to extend the storyline somehow to make the whole Havoc romance factor larger. So there may be a few more twists before the end... And then again, it may be another _LCIS_ and end unsatisfactorily..._

_We'll just have to wait and see. Peace -Z_


	11. Rules

**Chapter Eleven: Rules**

"Amunet," The soft call of my name tried to pull me out of slumber. I refused to go; I was having such a pleasant dream. "Wake up!" These words grabbed hold of each arm and yanked me violently into alertness. I shot up with a start and frowned. The sun had barely risen above the horizon! It was too early to be up!

"Good, you need to get dressed and eat something," Havoc told me from where he stood at the end of the couch.

I glared at him before laying back down, "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do, Amunet. You're coming to work with me today," Havoc pulled the blanket off of the couch and began folding it, leaving me without covers. I glared at him harder, willing my stare to make him go away. I hadn't had enough sleep.

"Why?"

"Because Mustang and I think it'll be easier to protect you that way," Jean moved around the couch and placed the blanket at the end where my feet had been.

I sat up again and yawned, "What's wrong with me staying here?"

"For starters, you left the apartment when I'd asked you not to."

I rolled my eyes and stood up. "I was hungry and there wasn't any food here."

"I know, but we still think it's better if you come to work with me." Jean stated, picking up the sheets off the couch and folding them, too.

"Fine. I'll get dressed," I mumbled, grabbing for my backpack under the coffee table. I looked at him one last time, decided against asking him to leave so I could change in the main room, and walked to the bathroom, defeated. If this was going to persist, I would not be happy. Waking up early was not a favorite thing of mine at all.

I yawned as we walked into the large building. Once inside, I became increasingly aware that for every step I took, a new pair of eyes passed over me. Several followed me as I walked beside Jean, and without knowing it, I began walking closer, and a little behind him, for the mental protection it gave me.

He opened the door to the office, and inside sat three men. They didn't look up at first, but Jean cleared his throat and they all looked over at him lazily. Catching sight of me, they all stood, and approached.

"Hello, Miss Marshall. It's nice to meet you, I'm Warrant Officer Falman," A man with grey-white hair held out his hand to shake, and I took it timidly.

The other two introduced themselves as well. The redhead was 2nd Lt Breda, and a small mousy man with glasses was Sergeant Fuery. After semi-awkward introductions, the men returned to their seats, and presumably, their work. Havoc left me in the office to go get something that hadn't registered to me.

"So, Havoc and you, eh?" Breda asked, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly.

I looked away and hid a blush. I couldn't deny I'd thought of 'Havoc and me' on several occassions, but nothing had happened. At least, nothing I counted. "You know his orders," I replied.

"I'm just sayin'," Breda shrugged and returned to whatever he was doing in time for the door to fling open, and the man I'd met in the hospital to strut into the room in a daze of boredom. He didn't register me as he swept past and slumped into his chair. His eyes travelled across his subordinates' desks and rested just shy of me, on Havoc's empty seat.

"Where's Lt Havoc?" He asked, his tone matching his stone grey eyes as he peered back at the other men.

"I believe he went to get Miss Marshall a chair so that she doesn't have to stand all day, Colonel," Falman informed the man with a gesture at me.

Mustang's eyes landed on me and he smiled. It was more of a smirk really, his lips turned up at the corners, his eyes dancing with dark humor beneath his untidy black hair. The look was almost predatory, and I shivered unintentionally.

"Yes, Miss Marshall. So nice of you to join us today," He leaned back in his seat and his smile became more friendly, but in truth, he still scared me.

"Like I had a choice, Colonel," I said, stifling yet another yawn.

Mustang chuckled, "_De-_tails."

The room returned to silence, and I wondered what was taking Jean so long to get a chair. The room wasn't small, but being the only one standing was awkward, especially since the Colonel was still watching me, and not even discreetly.

"_So_," Mustang's voice held all the connotation of what was to come, "You and Havoc, eh?"

I sighed at the repeated questions, and was in no mood to listen to this man. Breda had been joking, and maybe if the Colonel hadn't been responsible for my being there, I wouldn't have gone off on him. "Gee Colonel, I think _you_ of all people should know the answer to that question. You're the one that ordered me there."

He simply smirked at me evilly, contently, powerfully. He ultimately controlled my future, and the capture of the people who'd threatened me. "That's true, Miss Marshall, but that doesn't mean there isn't a 'You and Havoc'." He reasoned flawlessly.

I simmered on the inside as all eyes on the room were on me. I needed to set my ground rules, without them I was mindlessly thinking in a violent direction. Father had taught me lots of types of combat. I could disarm a man; disarm an alchemist, if I knew what he usually transmuted.

"But there isn't."

"Isn't what?" Jean had reentered the room, a large, muscular, shirtless man followed him, carrying a very overstuffed chair.

"Nothing," I glared in the Colonel's direction when he answered, "Simply that there isn't anything between the two of you, and that she is therefore open to go to dinner with me." My jaw dropped as I stared at the man. He had _not_ just done what I'd thought he'd done. He smirked in my direction, "I'll pick you up tonight around seven?"

My voice was devoid of any and all emotion as I answered, "Colonel, _nothing_ would make me happier than going on a date with you." Let him get out of that what he wanted. If he _did_ pick me up, I'd give him a night in hell. He'd think more wisely who he tricked into a date.

I turned to look at Havoc, who'd gone a little white, his cigarette just staying in his mouth by a tiny bit of the end. He didn't look to be in awe straight out, but he wasn't happy either.

The large man in the doorway cleared his throat. "I have a lovely chair to deliver to a lovely young Amunet Marshall so she shall be comfortable here!" His voice boomed as he made his way to an empty bit of floor that the chair fit in.

After setting the chair down, the man glided over to me and grabbed my hand, kissing the back of it, "Major Alex Louis Armstrong at your service, my lady!"

"Thank you?" I asked.

He smiled, or at least I thought he smiled, it was hard to tell from under the large handlebar mustache that covered his mouth. "I must return to my own work. It was a pleasure meeting you," and he was gone.

The room settled down into silence. After an hour, Mustang stood and proceeded to clean the windows absentmindedly. I sat uncomfortably in the overstuffed chair in a odd spot in the room and twiddled my thumbs until I finally couldn't stand it. "I'm going for a walk," I declared and stormed from the room in frustration. However, once out of the room, I shrunk back into my shell and timidly searched for an exit.

There were several things I wished to work out in my head. For starters, I needed new rudimentary rules. If the four my father had taught me were incorrect, as I'd seen them proven to be, what might be better ones?

**Children Believe Anything **was a good start, but I needed others. Looking at the past few weeks and all that'd happened I concluded three additional things:

**Trust in Moderation. **Give it to the wrong person and you'll get hurt or killed. But don't give it to anybody and you'll get hurt, too.

**People Care.** They just don't always show it. It takes courage to reach out to someone they don't know, especially if it puts them in a difficult position.

**Nothing is Concrete.** Accept and expect changes in your view and the world.

They weren't the prettiest rules, nor the largest set, but they would help me get through the day. I sat down under a tree and sighed at the sunlight. It was a pretty day, and I'd just solved my biggest crisis. I had a stable platform again, for the moment. But there were several other problems.

If I stayed in hiding, where would I go? I couldn't stay with Jean forever, he didn't have a big enough place. And how would I pay for the place? I couldn't hold a job if I couldn't tell them my identity. Besides, I already had a job at my coffee shop...

I groaned, my coffee shop would have been running for three days with no news from me! My employees probably ransacked the place and left... What a nightmare this week had been.

* * *

_I couldn't resist Breda & Mustang giving Amunet crap. lol. It was my favorite part and I've been wanting to write that little scene from the moment this story came into my head. I could just picture it, and I didn't do it a lick of justice. Ok well. Lovely Reviews, Story Alerts and Favorites made me feel so happy I decided to update!_

_You'll learn who is after Amunet soon enough. But only briefly as she doesn't _really_ know anything. They just think she does. But her future does not look good..._

_See you next chapter!_


	12. Captured

**Chapter Twelve: Captured**

"Amunet?" Jean woke me with a tap on the shoulder. My face was on fire and I was still outside. I moved my face from the sunlight as I sat up.

"Hm?" I was much more content after having had a nap.

"You fell asleep, and I was going to go to lunch, if you'd like to join me?" Havoc asked tentatively.

"Sure Jean," I took his hand and stood with help. "Where are we going?"

This seemed to catch the blonde off guard. He scratched the back of his head and muttered to the ground.

"What?" I inched closer to try and make out the words.

"Well, I was going to take you to the cafeteria... but we could go somewhere else. I only have a half hour lunch break, though."

Lunch break reminded me that I needed to deal with my coffee shop. "Cafeteria is fine," I smiled, "Afterwards I need to go to my coffee shop though. Make sure nobody's died or quit..."

Jean nodded and led me to the cafeteria.

The food was edible, but only just. The tables were crowded, but not to the point of discomfort, however it didn't seem to help Jean's mood. His little raincloud followed him dutifully as he led me back to his shared office. I'd had to fend off many an offer for a date in the cafeteria, and I wasn't looking forward to Mustang and his little... _date_ later that night.

He held the door open to me and I entered, aware of the female officer by the Colonel's desk. She looked up and nodded at me before turning back to the papers.

Jean walked up to the Colonel's desk and cleared his throat to wake the superior officer.

"Yes Havoc?" he asked groggily.

"Miss Marshall needs an escort to her coffee shop, she's got business that needs to be attended to."

"Lt. Hawkeye, accompany Miss Marshall to her shop," Mustang waved the two of us away and resumed his post of drooling on paperwork.

"We haven't formally met, Miss Marshall. I'm 1st Lt. Riza Hawkeye," The blonde woman held out her hand and smiled at me.

"Amunet Marshall," I took her hand and shook it. "Shall we attend to my shop?"

With a nod from Hawkeye and a grim nod from Jean, the two of us left.

-

"I wonder what's wrong with Jean?" I wondered aloud as I sat is the passenger seat in a military vehicle and gave directions to my shop.

Hawkeye didn't respond, but she did raise her eyebrow and throw a glance my way.

"He's been acting like that since this morning when the Colonel tricked a date out of me..." I trailed off and sighed.

"Be careful with the Colonel. He's a lady's man," was all Hawkeye had to say to me before we were in front of my shop.

I exited the car and pulled a key from my pocket. The sign read closed, which was a little worrisome, but not as badly as the fact that lights were on. "My electrical bill is going to be through the roof," I groaned and unlocked the door. I looked back at Hawkeye in the car. She didn't seem too distressed about the scene, so I gave her the benefit of my doubt and entered.

The front was spotless as I'd left it, well everything I, or anyone looking in the window, could see from the front was spotless. Behind the counter, drag marks began. _Great_, just what I needed was my shop as a crime scene. I noise in the back alerted me to the danger that could still be present. I grabbed the crowbar I kept beneath the cash register. I was handy in combat, at least during training sessions with my father I'd been. Out of practice, and forgetting that an armed officer sat right outside, I proceeded into the back.

Margaret, one of my employees, lay in a puddle of blood, arms and legs missing.

"Can I eat her, Lust?" A childish voice asked from above.

"No Gluttony. We need her."

I looked up, but saw only the ceiling. "What the-" My world went black before I registered where the blow had come from.

* * *

_Bet you didn't see that one coming! XD I'm having so much fun with this story, lol. Although the later chapters just keep getting more difficult to write because of a certain... complication... in the plot. ;P But, you'll know what I mean when we get there. Oh, and I'm going to have to look at the rating system for this website, because the rating may need to be adjusted when I post future chapters. :/ But, that's the way the cookie crumbles. And your only hint as to what is to come!_

_Na schledanou  
~Z_


	13. Gone

**Chapter 13: Gone**

The scream from the coffee shop was not good, and Lt. Hawkeye jumped from the car immediately, gun in hand. By the time she'd entered the back room, there was no Amunet anywhere to be seen. Cursing her luck, she went out the back way to try and catch whoever had kidnapped her charge. Nothing in the alley out of place; no drag marks, blood, fleeing suspects, or noise for that matter.

Mustang was going to kill her.

"WHAT?" It was not the Colonel who had a panic attack, but Lt. Havoc , "What do you mean she's kidnapped? You were supposed to be _watching_ her!"

The Colonel sat at his desk with his head in his hands, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth thin, as he watched his subordinates. "Calm down Lt. Havoc. Sometimes there's no way to prevent these things from happening."

"But Amunet is out there somewhere, possibly getting _raped_!" Havoc shouted, continuing to chew on his cigarette and pacing rapidly.

"Geez Havoc, it's not like you're _dating_ her or anything," Breda commented as Havoc sprinted for the door on his way to the police headquarters to file a missing persons report.

Havoc colored slightly, but didn't stop to retort. Amunet had made him promise not to leave her. And now she was missing! And it was his fault for not thinking he needed to go with her.

Mustang watched as his blonde subordinate fled the room before picking up the phone. He sighed and waited for the headache to come as he placed the receiver to his ear.

"Lt. Colonel Hughes," The voice on the other end chirped.

"Hughes, it's Mustang."

"Roy! You called to see how Elisia is doing, didn't you?" The overly chipper Hughes gushed, before going into details.

"No, Hughes. I need you to organize a search party."

"Who for, Roy? If it's an alchemist you know what probably happened. No sense sending a party after them," Hughes sobered up quickly.

"Amunet Marshall. She has a death threat on her, and she's not an alchemist."

"Can do, Roy."

The line went dead as the Colonel sighed in relief. He'd gotten off easy with the overenthusiastic man.

_I must admit my folly... I forgot that I was posting this story here as well as on Luna... so I'm sorry dear readers that you've had to patiently wait. But thank you also to those two people who reviewed my story between the last update and this one. They were the ones who reminded me. :D_

_Also, lucky for you, I'm six chapters ahead right now on Luna, so I can update every week! XD And I promise I won't forget again. Also, you'll notice next chapter that the rating might be bumped up a notch due to a certain scene. But, the rating may also stay the same, because honestly... -sweatdrop- I don't know what the rating _is_ currently._

_Another thing, there're probably going to be between eleven and sixteen more chapters after this one based upon my current plot line. Now if Amunet goes and does something stupid again, like getting herself kidnapped (which I didn't plan), well, the number might change._

_Thank you so much for reading! And those special few who review brighten my day and make me want to write. -hinthint-_

_~Z_


	14. Interrogation

**Chapter Fourteen: Interrogation**

I couldn't see anything when I woke up, but I could tell I was tied up. Damn it. This whole _month_ had been nothing but trouble. My shoulders ached from the tightly secured rope that held my hands around a post behind my back. My wrists also hurt, along with my head. It was probably a good thing that my surroundings eluded me, because I had a guess that everything would be dancing before my eyes.

"Hey boss, I think she's awake," A voice screamed in my ears, and my head gave another painful throb. The screeching of chairs and thunder as two sets of feet pounded the ground in my direction did not help either.

"Amunet Marshall?" The gruff voice, although much quieter than the other, did nothing for my head. Sandpaper fingers pulled my chin up so that I looked into two floating pricks of light that wouldn't stay still.

I groaned in response, fighting the feeling of nausea the dancing lights caused.

The fingers forced my head back and forth in a rough shake that popped my neck, and the burning of stomach fluid crept closer to my throat.

"Answer me." The voice commanded when the shaking stopped, now considerably louder.

"Yes," I croaked, my voice unsteady and distant, but still powerful enough to drive another nail into my head.

"What do you know about the Ishbal Rebellion?"

I couldn't fathom why someone would have kidnapped me to ask that question. I took a deep breath to steady my pulsing head and closed my eyes. "A group of Ishballans revolted when a soldier shot a child. The military had to fight back." I frowned, bringing my eyebrows together in concentration. What else did I know...?

I couldn't remember... It had to be bad or father wouldn't have died for it...

_...information I have about a covert ops unit in Ishbal...do not trust the military..._

But I didn't know _what_ the covert ops unit had been doing.

I was shaken again. "What else?"

"I don't know!" I cried, frustrated. Like hell I would tell _them_ about some obscure thing I, myself, didn't fully comprehend.

The sandpaper fingers were removed in time for my face to be rubbed raw when an equally rough hand slapped me across the face. I didn't taste blood, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"I'll let you think on that, and we'll talk again."

* * *

I was tired; if my internal clock was correct, it'd been two days since I'd woken up, and I couldn't afford to go to sleep. There was no telling what might happen. Hell, there was no way to tell what would happen if I stayed awake. However, there was no guarantee my internal clock _was_ right. All I knew was that there were three different men who'd talked in my presence. The one with sandpaper hands, one with a very, very high voice, and the one who'd alerted Sandpaper Hands to my alertness.

My headache had subsided a day ago, but I was seeing spots due to lack of food.

"I want to eat her Lust," that creepy voice from my shop stated from nearby.

"Patience Gluttony, we need to know what she's leaked first." The feminine voice I also recognized from my shop replied.

"We've been unable to get any information out of her, Ma'am," Squeaky Voice reported.

The woman chuckled, as she approached me, I couldn't hear her feet on the floor, but I could just make out her form in the dark.

A stabbing pain in my right shoulder caused me to scream in agony, and I sucked in another breath. "You'll tell me _exactly_ what I want to hear." The smirk in her voice was unmistakable, even though I was crying softly and paying little attention to her.

The pain increased as pressure increased. "I need an answer," she hummed lightly in my ear.

"Yes," I gasped, "Tell you what you want to hear."

"Who have you told?" She asked.

"Told what?" I asked. My mind was muddled from the pain that gripped my shoulder, and the hunger that squeezed my stomach making it impossible to concentrate.

"About Ishbal." She stated, applying more pressure, and the rip of the back of my shirt could be heard as whatever was in my shoulder began to protrude out the back side.

Ishbal again...? Were the covert ops really that big of a deal?

"Nobody! Nobody! I swear," I got out breathlessly. The pain was causing me to hold my breath so I wouldn't move my shoulder unnecessarily.

"Liar," She seemed to enjoy this, as she plunged the object deeper into my shoulder.

"No, I'm not. I swear! Why would I bring up such a touchy subject?"

More pressure; I was sobbing. What was so bad about the unit anyway? Wouldn't they have been there to protect us? So what if they murdered a few innocent people, that was war. "Stop it, I'm telling you the truth! I've spoken to nobody!"

"Ma'am, aren't you being a little hard on her?" The quiet one asked from a distance. I was trying to control my breathing as best I could in the situation.

"And what do you suggest?"

"Torture. Of a more... _pleasing_ kind," Sandpaper Hands offered, the grin obvious in his voice.

"No one," I sobbed again, "Who would I tell?"

The woman turned back to me. "The military."

I looked up at her through my tears. "My father's last words to me in a letter said he'd learned of a covert ops unit in Ishbal, and not to trust the military. What's so bad about a covert ops unit? And why would I tell somebody I've been told not to trust?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" The voice was tight, but the pressure had let up.

"The military is for protection, right? Wouldn't a covert ops group be smart? So what if they kill a few innocents? That's war."

The object in my shoulder was removed. "You told me her father gave her _other_ information."

"No Ma'am, that's all she knows."

"Humans are so incompetent," The woman stated. "Keep your mouth shut Miss Marshall, and you'll never see any of us again. - Do what you want with her, she's no threat."

"But I want to _eat_ her, Lust!"

"Come Gluttony, we have places to be."

* * *

_Oh, forbidding. Sadly, that's the last we'll see of the homunculi for quite some time... if ever again... I haven't quite decided how to wrap this puppy up, but the way it's looking right now, there'll be at _least_ 25 chapters... (As I'm currently writing 23 and I'm nowhere near done with the plot line). Actually, 30 is probably a better guesstimate than 25. Point being..._

_I updated! XD And only a week later! -claps for herself- Thanks so much to everybody who reads, and even more thanks to those who review! XD I love reading them! Also, is a PAIN! I finally realized that my tiem lapse spaces weren't showing up -sighs- so I've conceded to using their weird bar line thing._

_Till next time!  
~Z_


	15. Rescue

****

Chapter Fifteen: Rescue

_"I'm so sorry... I didn't know..."_

"Well now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Sandpaper Hands asked as he zipped up his pants and walked from the room, leaving me to gather what dignity remained after two months of similar treatment. I'd had to strike the rule **People Care** from my growing (or shrinking) list of rules.

My shirt was in tatters and my pants disgustingly dirty, but anything was better than lying in the middle of the floor, naked.

A small roll of bread was thrust in my direction. "Eat up," Sandpaper laughed as he closed the door. I ate it, contemplating my existence. Everything before this capture was a dream to me. Had I really had people who cared for me? Had I really abstained for twenty-six years? It had to be impossible. All of it, just a fantasy cooked up to give me hope.

If I really knew how to fight, I would've found a way out of this hellhole already. If people did care about me, they'd have found me by now. No, this was my reality, and there was nothing I would've liked more than to end my life. But then Sandpaper Hands would win. He'd whispered in my ear every day, "Go ahead. Kill yourself. You can end all of this, just off yourself." And I refused to allow him the satisfaction of making me commit suicide, no matter the hell I was going through.

I had to believe in the reality that seemed a fantasy. Without that, well, I might have just let him win.

* * *

It had been almost three months since Amunet had turned up missing. Havoc had given up, sulking at his desk, and sometimes, not even coming into the office.

Naturally, his coworkers were concerned, but with a full-scale investigation underway, there wasn't much any of them could do, except pray that Amunet was found, alive.

With every passing day, the prospects grew grimmer and Havoc became increasingly irritable.

"Well, I guess I won't be having that date," Mustang had made the mistake of remarking the day after Amunet had been kidnapped. Havoc had exploded and hadn't returned to the office for three days, until the lack of news drove him back to work.

Amunet's belongings were left alone in his apartment, and Amunet's own apartment had been searched once a day, in case she was to return.

An anonymous phone call alerted the group to a possible holding place for Amunet.

_"There are rooms with many girls forced into prostitution down Riser Street on the South end of town. You may check there, sirs."_

A raid was prepared, headed by Hughes, who was pestered by Havoc. "We have to go now! There's no telling what's happening to her!"

"We're moving as fast as we can, Lieutenant."

"It's not fast enough!"

* * *

I don't remember how long I was asleep, but I awoke in time to puke. For whatever reason, I felt sick to my stomach and had been having spells of nausea for roughly two months.

Just as I was settling back in to sleep, the next wave of men had come to collect, and I had finally had enough. I **was** trained in combat, and I was **not **going to be pushed around any longer. If they wanted something, they'd have to get it over my cold (preferably dead) body.

"Hey sweetie. How's about you lose the clothes?" One asked me.

I stood and steadied myself. The lack of nutrients had taken a toll, even though it'd only been a couple months. "Touch me and I break your neck."

"Little kitty grew another spine overnight, eh?" Sandpaper Hands asked, cracking his knuckles. "Fine. They're so much more fun to break when they have one. And the second time is even better."

He made a grab for me, but I ducked, albeit clumsily, and was able to land a punch in his gut.

"Why you..." He lunged at me again, just as an explosion shook the building.

* * *

The entire building was disgusting: the women were all either dead or close to dead, the rooms smelled strongly of urine, there were no working lights, and Roy Mustang had had enough. He decided that he wanted to bring those responsible for this atrocity to him, instead of searching for them, so he blew up the water heater.

* * *

Everybody stood there dumbly for several moments before Sandpaper spoke. "Well, go check it out. Make sure this growth of spine hasn't spread to the others."

"Yes sir."

I had managed to get between Sandpaper and the door in the momentary lapse into greater stupidity, and after the other men had left, I made a break for it. He pursued me as I ran towards the bright orange light that filled the passageway. A figure emerged from the light too quickly for me to avoid being caught. I struggled, kicked, bit, clawed, and screamed for the figure to release me.

I saw Sandpaper stop a few paces away out of the corner of my eye. He was stunned about something, but I'd never find out what, because he burst into flames. Sandpaper turned and ran down the dreary passage, an awful wail flaoting back to my ears.

"Well, Miss Marshall, what a pickle you've gotten yourself into," The smugness of the voice was recognizable as I was released. I backed away and stared in wonder at the Colonel. "You're a mess," He told me.

He took off his coat, and advanced on me.

"Stay away!" I screamed. I took his coat and threw it into the flames behind him before backing away even more. I wouldn't let anybody touch me.

He stopped and took in my appearance. "You're safe now, Amunet."

I burst into tears and collapsed on the floor. Safe. Was anyone ever truly safe? I wondered as I blacked out from crying, relief, nausea, and exhaustion.

* * *

Havoc paced the opening with worry. Something had blown up. Leave it to the Colonel to blow something up! It was only because of orders (and several heavily armed men guarding the entrance) that Havoc had not already charged in after the Colonel.

About ready to burst with anticipation, Havoc approached the opening as a figure loomed in the dancing smoke.

The limp body materialized first. The dirty, matted hair and smudged face were barely recognizable. Dread filled Havoc. What if Amunet had been killed and the Colonel was bringing him her body?

"Amunet!" The strangled cry left him as he sprinted forward to his superior, and the lifeless body.

The woman groaned and struggled slightly when Havoc came close. He gasped; all that covered the woman's body were a bra and jeans that had been shredded so badly that they hung like a skirt from her waist. A large gaping hole in her shoulder had begun to fester.

"Didn't you offer her your coat?" Havoc asked the Colonel as Amunet was placed on the pavement, safely away from the fire.

"She took it. And threw it into the flames before passing out," Mustang replied ruefully. "I have to go back and get it."

Havoc had taken off his jacket and draped it over the woman by the time Mustang returned, carrying a jacket. "Good thing it's fire retardant," The Colonel remarked as he watched other soldiers emerge carrying or leading other victims out of the building.

There were fifteen in all.

After every room had been searched and the fire extinguished, Amunet stirred.

"Amunet?" Havoc asked hopefully.

"Mm?" She replied, bringing her arm up to cover her eyes.

"You're awake!" Havoc grinned and lunged forward to hug the small figure.

* * *

_Poor, poor Jean... He didn't get to be the hero. :( Aw well..._

_Z updated AGAIN! XD Thank the lucky stars! And I'm looking at wrapping up the story where I've left off my writing. It appears (unless I break some of my plot points into multiple chapters) that there will be 28 total chapters. And a (somewhat) happy ending. I may have to type up an epilogue, too. Because I'm sure the sweet little ending won't be enough fluff for some readers. XD But I like it, and that's what matters._

_So, this was the chapter Amunet went and screwed up my original plot line. Stupid characters with a mind of their own. DX But that's okay, because it afforded her readers a more interesting... er... problem. Well, see ya next Saturday~!_

_~Z_

_*And fanfiction is being a butthead, so nothing in this chapter centered, even though certain things were supposed to._


	16. Surprise

**Chapter Sixteen: Surprise~!**

I felt a heavy fabric placed on top of my body, could smell the acrid smoke that can only be created from the burning of human bodies, could hear the sirens from approaching vehicles. But I didn't allow myself to be pulled from the blackness. In the blackness I could pretend I was safe, that nothing was wrong.

"Amunet?" A voice came from above me, softly, sweetly almost.

"Mm?" I was stirring from the blackness unwillingly, and I put an arm up to cover my eyes.

"You're awake!" Arms encircled me and I froze for a fraction of a second before wrenching myself from the grip. I did not want anybody touching me. I clutched the heavy fabric around me as I pulled myself into a feral crouch and watched my surroundings.

"Don't touch me!" I snarled, before my surroundings came into view. The dusk was imposing, but brighter than the building had been. The heavy fabric draped over my shoulders smelled heavily of cigarette smoke. A blonde man smoking a cigarette and a black haired man stood looking at me. As I watched, the cigarette dropped from the blonde's mouth.

"Amunet?" The blonde looked hurt and repulsed, and I remembered who he was.

"Jean?" I asked in disbelief. I was sure everything had to be a dream, including the Colonel pulling me from the building. But he stood in front of me, next to Havoc.

"Yes. Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. I matched it with two steps back and pulled the jacket tighter around myself.

For the first time since I woke up in the dark, I took stock of my body. My feet and legs were fine, aside from the dried blood that snaked its way down one leg. Several toes were broken, though. My stomach was a little enlarged, which was odd as they'd been starving me. My shoulder, which had been left to heal or kill me, ached uncontrollably, along with my insides. My head felt rather light, but I was focused. The cast my wrist had been in when I'd entered the coffee shop had been removed in transit at some point, but my wrist seemed fine. I could use it, at least. And numerous scrapes and bruises were healing, but hadn't quite disappeared altogether yet.

"Do you honestly think I'm alright?" I burst out, finally. "After the hell I've been put through in there! Like _hell_ I'm fine!"

"Can we take you to a doctor?" Havoc asked.

"Only if we walk. I'm not getting into a car." My fear of the car was not irrational. I would not be confined to a seat in a closed space with multiple men. It just simply wouldn't do after three months of what I'd been through.

"We can do that. Just... let's get you some clothing first, please." Havoc had turned to look for a female officer.

"What's the matter Havoc? Never seen a half naked woman before?" Mustang asked, humor evident in every mannerism he had as he looked me over. I pulled the jacket tighter and took another unconscious step back. I was afraid of these men. Even though I knew, _knew_ they wouldn't hurt me, I couldn't shake the feeling... especially with Mustang looking at me like that.

"Let's just go," I stuttered, and all of a sudden the fight left me. I walked off in a random direction.

"The other way, Amunet," Jean touched my arm lightly and I recoiled.

"O-okay..."

* * *

The doctor fixed me up as best he could at the military hospital. ("Your shoulder is infected, but your wrist seems to have healed. And you have vaginal bruising, which is not surprising considering where you've been.") I was put in a room with fourteen other women, who had apparently come from wherever I had. The difference being that none of them seemed to have the flu, which sent me to the bathroom several times a day.

I was finally moved to a private room as per request from the other women, who did not appreciate me making retching noises in the middle of the night while they slept.

"Amunet, may I take you out to dinner tonight?" Jean was standing in the doorway, wearing slacks and a nice shirt. His uniform jacket hung on a hook next to my bed because this was the first time he'd come to see me in the hospital since admitting me, where he'd insisted I keep his jacket so I'd be somewhat decent.

"I can't leave the hospital yet, Jean." It was an excuse, because I didn't know if I wanted to go to dinner with him. I wasn't sure how easily I could re-accept human (let alone male) interaction one on one. I was squirming a bit uncomfortably as it was, and Jean was on the other side of the room.

"Actually, Miss Marshall, everything seems to be in order. We can release you now, if you wish." The doctor came to stand beside Havoc in the doorway.

"Yes Doc, I'd like that if you don't mind." I replied. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go to dinner with Jean or not, but to be out of the room with white walls, ceiling, floor, and furniture would have been favorable.

"We just have one more thing to discuss before you go, Miss Marshall," The Doctor told me.

"What is it?"

He gave Jean a long look, "Would you like Lt. Havoc to leave the room?"

"_Should _he leave, Doc?" I asked.

"Only if you want him to. As your partner, it is probably best he know that your baby is healthy."

"He's not my..." I trailed off as I tried to wrap my head around the sentence, "What did you say about a baby?"

"I was sure you knew, Miss Marshall. You're about two months pregnant, and your baby seems to be unharmed by the sexual trauma you sustained."

Havoc had lost his cigarette and was staring at my slightly swollen stomach as all of the color drained from his face. I still wasn't fully comprehending what the doctor was saying.

"I'm sorry if I'm a little slow Doc, but I thought you just said that I'm _pregnant_?" I repeated.

* * *

_Okay, I know this isn't a laughing matter in the least, but I thought it was quite funny. All parts of it. From Amunet's ineptitude at realizing what had happened, the doctors assuming Jean & Amu are a couple, and her complete disbelief at what happened._

_Anyway, this is where Amunet screwed me, the writer, over. I wanted to end the story with a happy little dinner date for Havoc & Amu. But_ nooooo_, Amunet got pregnant. So I had to re-write the entire plot line to include this little... development. I'll bet I'm less happy about it than my readers, but possibly not as unhappy as Jean. He almost had a heart attack! Imagine, the woman you're secretly in love with being pregnant... and not by you!_

_So yes... I'm sorry that this happened, dear readers, but apparently it was unavoidable, and certainly unplanned. I've never written a fic with a pregnant protagonist... _especially_ when the love interest becomes the antagonist for several chapters..._

_Oops! I should stop typing now, or I might give away the rest of the story line! ;P_

_See you next Thursday! (I'll be camping Fri, Sat, and Sun, so I'm going to update early rather than late). And, I'll be typing from the US instead of the Czech Republic, baby! Headin' home tomorrow (not that any of you readers care about the writer's personal life, I can just hear you all "Yeah, yeah. Shut up and finish this fic for us! Dammit!")_

_~Z_

_p.s. sorry this didn't get updated on Saturday! I could have sworn I updated, but I didn't! My apologies!_


	17. Indecision

**Chapter Seventeen: Unprepared!**

"I'm sorry if I'm a little slow Doc, but I thought you just said that _I'm _pregnant?" I repeated.

"Yes. Does that pose a problem for you and your partner?" The Doctor asked, eyeing Havoc as if he were a bomb set to detonate any second.

"He's not my partner!" I growled at the same moment Havoc managed a "Yes."

"Well," The Doctor looked between the two of us, and then down at his clipboard, "I will go get your papers so we can release you."

Havoc and I looked at each other. Why had he simply said "Yes."? Why not make the distinction that my life and his were not connected? And how was my pregnancy his problem? I couldn't form the question, and apparently neither could he.

"Jean..." I trailed off as he came and sat down beside my bed.

He looked... off... without a cigarette in his mouth. But I didn't recoil from him as I thought I would have. "Amunet..." He put a hand out, but stopped before he'd touched me. I waited for him to speak again, "What are we... What are you going to do once you're out of the hospital?"

I hadn't thought about it. Not even when I _hadn't_ been... pregnant. "I... I don't know..." I confessed, putting a hand on my stomach at the little life that was inside of me. I didn't want to keep it, _couldn't_ keep it. I had no way to keep a baby.

"Do you... do you think you'll keep it?" Jean blazed ahead, avoiding my face.

"How can I, Jean?" I hung my head, "I don't even have an apartment at the moment."

"Do you want to keep it?"

Why would I want to keep the result of two months of torture? The idea was repulsing. But... not allowing the baby a chance at life? I couldn't do that either. "I don't know. I need time to think, Jean."

"If you need to talk, just ask," Jean stood and left the room.

"Your papers Miss Marshall," The Doctor handed me the papers. "I'll need to see you in about a month to look at your shoulder."

* * *

Jean stood beside a car, waiting for me. "I know you don't want anything to do with people right now Amunet, but Colonel Mustang thinks it's best if you spend a few more days at my apartment," Jean held open the door for me.

I couldn't argue. Where else was I going to go? I hadn't paid rent in three months, I hadn't had a job in three months, and I wasn't in the best mind. Staying with Jean... however uncomfortable... would be the safest option.

* * *

_So, this fic turned one two days ago! So, in celebration, I'm bringing you a double update! :D_

_Also... I must put this here for all of the readers:_

_**The author (Blood Sucking Fox) is in no way attempting to force any of her beliefs on this very, very, **_**very**_** touchy topic [abortion] upon any of the readers of this story. The different viewpoints of the characters are used for the sole reason that they propel the story forward.**_

_Thank you, and well... Now I'll go post the next chapter in my double update act. ;P_


	18. Nightmare

**Chapter Eighteen: Nightmares**

All of my stuff was still where it'd been the morning I'd left. The blankets folded on the end of the couch. The ash tray had spilled onto the coffee table, but aside from that, it looked as though time hadn't passed.

I went over and slouched onto the couch, taking in the aroma of the cigarette smoke. I just wanted to go to sleep, but I needed to figure several things out first.

Jean hovered nervously between the kitchen and the front room. "Are you hungry?"

"No, thank you."

Silence for several moments. Was I going to talk to Jean about everything or did I want to sort through my thoughts first?

"Jean?"

"Yes?" The blonde came around the couch and stood in front of me. I could tell he didn't quite know what to do as the unlit cigarette bounced up and down rapidly while he chewed on it. His blue eyes were focused on my stomach, where the problem resided.

"Can I ask you a few things?" My body screamed at me against everything I was about to do, but I didn't care.

"What do you need to know, Amunet?"

I took a breath and patted the spot on the couch next to me. "How long does the Colonel want me to stay with you?"

"I don't know. We still haven't caught the people who did this to you, and we need to be sure that you're really safe this time. Why do you ask?"

I snorted. He wasn't serious, was he? "I'm going to have a _baby_, Jean. I don't want to, but there's not much I can do."

"You could have an abortion," he offered seriously.

"Those are illegal! Besides, I can't kill the baby. Even if it is a result of what happened..." I trailed off, trying to remember what I was going to say, "My point is, I need to have a home, a job, a stable life when this baby comes. And if I'm hiding, there's no way for me to do that."

"The Colonel has people running your coffee shop right now. You can go back to working there if you don't mind a body guard. There's your job and protection," Jean told me.

"But I don't have a home, Jean. I didn't mind sleeping on your couch when I wasn't going to be responsible for another life in the near future, but I need my apartment back. I can't burden you with a baby that isn't yours."

"I have orders though, Amunet. You're not to be left alone..." I plucked up the courage to take the hand he had offered me. I took a deep breath and sighed. "Do you honestly think that if in seven months I'm still here, there'll be room for a baby?"

"No," he stated simply, "but you can worry about this in the morning. You look tired." Jean stood, and with the hand I'd given him, pulled me up as well. He led me into his bedroom and instructed me into his bed. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight. Holler if you need anything."

I was smiling beside myself as I fell asleep.

_I was in that dark passageway again; the woman who had put a hole in my shoulder chased me, laughing. Sandpaper Hands was blocking the way, completely engulfed with fire and screaming. I screamed and turned down another passageway._

_"Everything's Fine Amunet," A dark voice chuckled as I continued to run through the maze._

I woke with a start. It was still dark outside and my face was wet. I'd been crying. I was gripping something in one hand, and looked around to see Jean slumped against the wall, holding my hand, asleep. He was so peaceful, I was able to go back to sleep without any other nightmares.

* * *

_So, this fic turned a year old, two days ago! In celebration, I'm bringing you a double update! :D_

_Also... I must put this here for all of the readers:_

_**The author (Blood Sucking Fox) is in no way attempting to force any of her beliefs on this very, very, **_**very**_** touchy topic [abortion] upon any of the readers of this story. The different viewpoints of the characters are used for the sole reason that they propel the story forward.**_

_Thank you, and well... This is the second chapter in my double update act. ;P_

_I'll see you all next Saturday (hopefully)._

_~Z_


	19. Routine

**Chapter Nineteen: Routine**

When I awoke the next morning, Jean wasn't where he'd been in the middle of the night. I went into the bathroom and was sick for several minutes. At least I knew I wasn't sick, I remember thinking dryly.

"Amunet?" Jean came into the doorway, and I groaned into the toilet. "Are you okay?"

I turned and looked at him after wiping my mouth on some toilet paper. "Oh yes. _Fine_. I'm only being sick into the toilet because I'm _pregnant_."

Jean dropped his gaze from my face, "Would you like me to make breakfast?"

Food was the last thing on my mind, but if it got him out of the bathroom, and thus away from me while I vomited, it sounded good to me. "Yes, please."

* * *

After a week of me sulking around the house and becoming increasingly more moody, Jean loaded me into the car. "You need to have something to do. And I need to get back to work."

I 'humphed' and sat in the car.

He stopped in front of my coffee shop, which was not only open, but very busy. I brightened immediately. "My shop!" I turned to Jean, "Who did you get to run it?"

"Several war veterans agreed to help out, and protect you if the need arises."

I got out of the car and jogged into the shop. It was totally foreign and yet exactly the same. None of the faces were familiar, but the sounds, smells, and feel of the counter were the same. I exhaled and sighed happily. Jean stood by the doorway as I went behind the counter to the back room.

"Excuse me Miss, but this is for staff only," The man who addressed me was friendly enough looking. He had graying hair and a very good natured smile, but loomed above me at probably six-foot-five and had a very jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face, marring his eye.

"I am staff," I grinned up at him. "Amunet Marshall. The owner." I held out a hand, which was enveloped in his muscular tan one.

"It's nice to see that you're doing better, Miss Marshall. Most people don't get over such dramatic happenings so quickly. I'm Miklos Reznik, retired Brigadier General. At your service."

"Nice to meet you too, Miklos."

"Who's behind the counter with you, Rezzie?" The high pitched nasally voice belonged to a woman shorter than me, with cropped red hair in what closely resembled a maid's uniform. She had thick black glasses on.

"Miss Marshall. The owner."

"I thought she was all bonkers, Rezzie," The woman paid me no mind as she talked to the large man.

"No Nicolette. She was just off on leave. Now be more respectful to the boss." Miklos scolded.

The woman turned and examined me with a critical look on her face. Her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed behind the thick black specs. "You don't look anything like you're 'sposed to. You ain't nothin' special." She turned on her heel and went back to cleaning tables.

I watched her back for the better part of a minute, stewing in the outright rudeness the woman had. My fists were clenching and I couldn't think of any reason whatsoever that I should not fire her on the spot.

Miklos turned to me with an apologetic smile, "Excuse Nicolette. She's a retired... agent. A bit of a personality on her, but she means well. And in a fight, I don't know anyone I'd rather have on my side."

"I'll take your word for that," I told the large man. I wasn't actually facing him, though. I was looking at my counters and display case. ...Was that food in there? I didn't recognize a single dish that was being served. "Err... Miklos... What are those?" I pointed to a rather odd pair of lumps - muffins perhaps? - that were purple with large orange and yellow spots all over.

"Those are Straggle Muffins. Delicacy in the far far west. Not in Amestris a'course, but they're delightful. Selling them faster than I can make them, some days. Other days... like today, can't sell a single one." He pulled one of the repulsive pastries out of the case and bit into it, "Want a bite?"

"I'll pass for now, thank you."

* * *

_Z has been a bad authoress... a very bad authoress..._

_I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I've had no time, due to the fact that I'm stupid and took a whole bunch of AP classes this year. And... well... yeah... I haven't written anything in over a month... so... we'll just have to wait and see when I actually get time to write, because, honestly, I haven't quite decided whether Amunet will keep the baby or get rid of it. I've got both of the storylines worked out... but I can't decide which I like better._

_So, see you next time! Sorry it's such a short chappy!_


	20. Change

**Chapter Twenty: Fights**

The familiar rhythm was nice, although as the days went by I grew to hate Nicolette with such a burning passion that some days I couldn't even stay in the front, and resorted to taking inventory. I'd send her into the back, but I liked having her where somebody (Miklos) could keep an eye on her.

At my temporary home, arguments with Jean grew increasingly common, and all focused on my unwanted, unplanned pregnancy. It got to the point where I didn't even want to leave the shop at closing time because I couldn't go to my home, and I didn't want to fight with Jean. The fights just exhausted me mentally and physically; it hurt for me to fight with Jean over this point.

I respected his side, and saw the wisdom in getting an abortion, because I wanted no part of a child, but every time I'd just about talked myself into it, I remembered the scene in the park when I'd fled my apartment in terror.

I wanted to be that woman: happy, content, and surrounded by people that loved her. Or I'd think about all the children that hadn't had a chance at a life because their mothers had killed them before the babies had had a chance. I would not be a murderer.

On one particular day, it was time to see the doctor again about my shoulder. After a month of proper healing, it was working better, but I still had a limited range of motion. Jean drove me, the car ride silent but full of tension. When I went to get out, Jean caught my wrist and looked me in the eyes for the first time in almost a month. "Just talk to the doctor about it, please?"

I'd been hoping for an apology of some kind, I realized as I flung the car door open angrily and slammed it shut behind me. "I will. But only if you promise not to mention it again, Jean. I swear if I hear one more word about it, I'll break your arm. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm not still capable of combat."

He glared at me, "Where were your combat skills when you were being raped, Amunet? We wouldn't be in this mess if you'd just fought the men off!"

I growled in frustration and turned away. As mad as I was at him, and as irritated as Jean using "we" made me, I liked the sound of "we" deep down. I stood there for several seconds, staring at the hospital doors, wondering what was truly going to happen if I had this baby.

I liked Jean, and more than as just a friend, but in the past month he had bothered, poked, prodded, and irked me to every end of every fiber of my body. If I did do what he asked, if I did get an abortion, would there be anything between us? And how could there be without compromise? If I just gave into what he wanted, another conflict would arise and I'd have to yield either my side or the relationship.

I was about to formulate a speech to give Jean when he got out of the car to accompany me to the appointment. Instead however, I was graced with the sound of the car engine starting. That made me mad; he was so unyielding in this point that he was shirking orders because he was mad, which only made me angry.

I whirled back around and yelled at him, "I did defend myself, you idiot. Why the hell do you think my shoulder had a hole in it? Why do you think I had several broken toes? Where did the bruises and scratches come from, I wonder? I was stuck in that hellhole for _two months_ and that was only _after_ a month of psychological torture! After a while you simply give up hope. Maybe you should have found me sooner!"

The engine was cut, and Jean leaned out the passenger side window, "You're right. I should have found you sooner. But I didn't. And it still stands that you gave up. You can't blame me for that."

I could feel the hot tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't blame him. I had thought something would come out of my staying with this man. Something special. But I was wrong, that something was heartache and reminders of my torture. He had a quick tongue, a _very_ quick tongue. "You're right. I can't. But you also can't dictate my life. If I give up, it's my choice, if I keep the baby, that's my choice. I don't see your concern anyway, the baby isn't yours!"

I couldn't continue this fight. I didn't want to fight. If it would stop Jean from arguing with me, I would talk to the doctor about abortion. But, I was still torn: I didn't want this baby even more than I wanted to fire Nicolette, more than I wanted my father to be alive, more that I wanted things to go back to the way they had once been, so, so long ago. More even than I wanted to move back into my own apartment.

But, I could not stand to murder this baby. Sure, I'd killed before. Only once, under my father's command, working a top secret mission in Southern Amestris. But that man had deserved it: he was a serial killer, and had targeted me as his next victim. That wasn't murder. I'd never _murdered_ anyone.

This baby was different. It hadn't done anything wrong. It just had the misfortune of being the product of rape. That wasn't its' fault.

I took several deep breaths to calm myself once inside the lobby before climbing the stairs.

* * *

"Well, your shoulder looks to be about healed. I'm going to send you over to our Physical Therapist for an hour of therapy to help with movement range. I want you to see him once a week at least. Twice a week would be much better. But, whatever you can afford." The doctor told me.

"Thank you, Doctor," I stood to leave. I had my hand on the doorknob when I stopped. I was going to talk to him about it. Talking didn't hurt. "One more thing, though, if that's okay."

"What is it?"

"My being... pregnant... wasn't by choice..."

"And?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Abortion options."

"You had better sit down, Amunet," he, himself, took a seat, and I mimicked him. "How sure are you about having an abortion?"

"I'm not sure, I just wanted to know more about it," I told him.

"Technically abortion is illegal in Amestris, but there are plenty of women who have them. If you catch the pregnancy early enough, it's as easy as taking a few herbs and drinking them in tea. But for someone who is as far along as you, surgery must be performed.

"Due to the illegality of the whole deal, many times the woman ends up with an infected uterus, an infertile uterus, or dies, because the doctors who perform abortions aren't held to any level of sanitation.

"Now, that's not to say that all women who go through with it have problems, but it is something to be aware of. Also, three months is generally the cutoff line before the abortion becomes even riskier. [1]"

"What are you getting at, Doctor?"

"If you are going to have an abortion, which is illegal and I am not advising you to do, you need to do it within the next week or risk more serious complications."

"And those complications are?"

A nurse walked in, halting the conversation. Because abortion was illegal, the doctor technically wasn't supposed to talk to patients about it. "Doctor, there's been a car accident; we need you in the E.R."

The doctor left with the nurse, "Physical therapy, Amunet."

And I was left alone, to wonder what more serious complications there could be than dyeing.

* * *

Jean was not waiting in a car to pick me up after my doctor's appointment. Sitting where I assumed his car would have been was a similar one. The back passenger's window was rolled down, and a black head of hair was visible. The smug smirk that played across his lips as I came closer was ever so annoying, and the way his eyes skimmed my form, and came back to my stomach, my breasts, and only then to my face.

"You're beginning to show, Miss Marshall," he purred at me.

"Where's Jean?" I asked ignoring the Colonel's jibe. I'd been preparing to apologize to him, and tell him, with a medical doctor's backing, why I couldn't get an abortion. And to ask him to help me find some other way to deal with this child that I was cursed to have.

"2nd Lt. Havoc? He's been reassigned," The dark humor in the Colonel's eyes made me shudder. He was enjoying my discomfort a little too much.

"Reassigned? Why?" I asked, playing right into his next response.

"He seemed to think it would be better for both of you if you were moved to a different safehouse."

I couldn't imagine why, but that felt like a fist in my stomach. So that was it, after all of the fights in which Jean had used 'we' as an argument, and he was done. For some reason I had to suppress the urge to storm back to his apartment, slam open the door, push him up against the wall, and ask in a low, threatening voice why he didn't have the balls to break up with me himself.

Of course, this was irrational as there really was no 'we', and he wasn't really breaking up with me because there was nothing to break up. But I imagined this was the feeling somebody got when they were least expecting their significant other to dump them.

I swallowed all of my anger and looked the Colonel in the eyes. "He seemed to think it would be better, or you did?" My voice was low, more threatening than I'd meant it to be, but I was pleased with myself just the same. The look that the man gave me, told me he'd been expecting me to do something along the lines of kiss him out of joy. He was puzzled.

"Havoc informed me that the two of you weren't playing nice," The puzzled look had left his face, bringing back the look of indifferent amusement. Although the combination hardly seemed possible, he managed to pull it off. "Knowing women as well as I do, I figured it might be smart to move you before I lost an officer."

I gave the man a simpering smile, "My _hero_."

His face retracted from the window as he scooted to the other side of the car. "Please get in, Miss Marshall."

I reluctantly opened the door and got inside. "So, a few spats and I'm dangerous? Are we back to the days just after my father passed?"

Mustang didn't make a sound as the car began to move.

"You know, I don't get it. If you don't think Jean can handle himself now, why'd you have him tail me then? Certainly I'm less dangerous now that I'm pregnant," I rattled on. I couldn't make myself stop; I wanted to make the Colonel regret his decision to move me, because I didn't want to move.

I laughed at myself then. Didn't want to move? Earlier that same afternoon I'd wanted nothing more than my old apartment back.

"You're more volatile, Miss Marshall. So we're placing you with one of your current employees," Mustang began, and my heart sunk to the pit of my stomach. He was going to make me beg to stay with Jean. There was no way my luck would allow my protector to be Miklos. It would be Nicolette... I had no doubt about that. _Especially_ with the way his eyes twinkled with laughter.

"You're going to make me beg, aren't you Colonel?" I asked him as the car began to slow in front of a house.

"Beg? I've not a clue what you mean, Miss Marshall."

"Go to hell," I growled as he opened his door and exited. I did the same, and saw, with amazement that it _was_ Miklos standing in front of the house.

He greeted us cordially enough. "M'wife's inside cookin'. I'll take yeh to th' kit'chin."

I looked at Mustang in amazement as his eyes twinkled even more. He was waiting for something, but I could only guess as to what.

* * *

[1] I totally just made all of that up, but considering the time period, I don't think it's too ridiculous.

_Okay, so somebody asked for longer chapters... Begrudgingly, I oblidged. But mostly because I realize that my chapters are rather short. So. There's question one._

_Also, concerning the baby: I _know_ it's Mary-Sue-ish to keep it. But, _if_ Amu keeps it... Well... Something _not_ Mary-Sue-ish will happen. _However_, should she chose to get rid of it, I can tell you that path is not a very favorable one either. Readers looking for a happy ending all around, will not be happy with this authoress. For I am not one for happy endings. At all. To put in perspective, in _Harry Potter_, I thought the whole affair would have been better if Harry and Voldemort had died locked in combat._

_Anywho, I still very much appreciate your input on whether Amu should keep the baby or not, but think of later reprecussions. ;P_

_Peace. Z_


	21. Birthday

**Chapter Twenty-One: Birthday?**

I was given an answer when I entered the kitchen. Miklos's wife was currently helping Jean take a cake out of the oven. On the table in the center of the kitchen were several wrapped parcels.

Jean turned around, saw me, and quickly averted his eyes. All of my anger at him not telling me I was being moved came back up and clawed at my throat to be let out.

"Amunet, this's m'wife, Crys." The woman was beautiful. She was slight, but just as tall as Miklos, with auburn hair that came down to frame her face.

"Nice to meet you, Amunet. I hope you don't mind that we're not finished. You're a bit early. Not everyone is here yet," Crys stated warmly, and at my look of confusion turned to the Colonel. "Haven't you told her Roy?"

"In part," his eyes glittered like mad, and I wanted to sock him. What the hell was going on? All I knew was that Jean looked guilty and I wanted to confront him about it.

"Jean, may I talk to you in private?" I cooed dangerously and walked into the hallway. Havoc joined me moments later.

"Amunet, I want to explain."

"Explain what, Jean? That you've handed me off to Miklos because you can't win? The reason you didn't tell me yourself?"

He only averted his eyes from me and looked at the carpet.

I sighed, all of my anger, magically, spent. "I talked to the doctor about abortion," I admitted.

"Amunet..."

"He doesn't advise it. Says it's too risky."

"Listen to me," Havoc looked at me and took my shoulders. "I'm sorry for pushing so hard. You're right. It's not my baby, and I can't control your life. That's why I think it's better if you stay with Miklos until this whole thing blows over. Once the people who did this to you are caught, you can go back to living by yourself."

I couldn't look at him. I wanted to believe so badly that he was doing this because it hurt him to see me pregnant, and that after the baby was born we could work things out and try for something more meaningful than sharing an apartment under orders. But, who was I kidding? If he couldn't take me being pregnant, how would a baby be any easier to deal with?

And he'd just said I could go back to living by myself. I couldn't help the tiny whispered confession that left me like a sigh, "I don't want to go back to living by myself."

Jean obviously hadn't heard me; he was watching me like a bomb, waiting for something to happen. I sniffed lightly, holding back the hot tears that were centered in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't tell this feeling, but I wasn't about to cry. I needed to collect my wits. I took a deep breath and looked Jean in the eyes. He'd removed his hands from my shoulders. "Fine. I accept your apology. So, why are you here?"

"You're kidding right?" He looked almost taken aback. "I wouldn't miss your birthday just because of this."

"My... birthday?" I asked, confused. Was it already the end of June? It couldn't be. I hadn't known this man for more than a couple months. My father had died in January. He'd been sent to tail me in February. I'd been taken at the beginning of March... and after three months of hell, I'd been living in the real world for only a month... That put us firmly at the end of June. It didn't seem like that much time had passed.

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

I shook my head. "I stopped tracking time after a week in hell. I guess I never really paid much attention."

Havoc nodded in understanding, and the two of us lapsed into silence. I didn't want to go back into the kitchen where everybody was happy, but I couldn't well stay in the hallway while they were waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Amunet," Jean began, but couldn't finish because the door had opened at the end of the hallway. The driver, Lt. Hawkeye was standing in the doorway with her arms wrapped around two wrapped packages. Behind her stood the devil itself, disguised as Nicolette, who also had a package in her arms.

"I'm he-ear Rezzie!" She bounced into the hallway, grinning. Hawkeye attempted to keep the packages balanced and followed Nicolette with little to no enthusiasm.

"Heya bossie! Happy birthday! Another year older!" This woman with the flames for hair and coke-bottle glasses tossed the package into my arms as if it was feather light, but the weight nearly sent me to the floor.

"What the heck is in this?" I asked as the woman continued into the kitchen, ignoring me.

"Rezzie! Cryssie! How are you? Oh... and Colonel, nice to see you're well." The formality in her voice at addressing a current officer was the only indication that she'd once been a member of the military.

"General," Mustang's voice replied, "You look wonderful tonight."

Nicolette laughed and I heard a smack. Havoc opened the kitchen door and followed Hawkeye and myself into the kitchen. Nicolette's hand was quickly withdrawn from Mustang's back when we entered, and his usual smirk was colored with pain. A new respect for the woman came to me as I saw the womanizer take a few steps away from her.

"I think you broke him, Nicky," Crystal commented in an undertone so that Mustang wouldn't hear her.

"No ma'er, le's get this celebratin' goin'," Miklos took the package from my arms, along with the two Hawkeye carried and deposited them onto the table in one motion.

It felt like a teenager's birthday party (singing 'Happy Birthday', blowing out candles, eating cake & ice cream) until we came to the gifts. I'd already unwrapped the ones from Hawkeye (a .9 mm gun and plenty of rounds ["You need to protect yourself better."]), Crystal (maternity clothing she assured me I would need), Miklos (the recipe for his disgusting-looking but surprisingly delicious muffins), I had only two envelopes (one tied to an extremely heavy package) left on the table. One from Nicolette and one from Mustang. The two presents I was dreading the most managed to sit on the table, both exuding danger. I picked my first poison: The Colonel's envelope.

Inside were two tickets to a festival and a small piece of paper with dinner reservations. I looked over at the man with steel gray eyes to see that his usual smirk had been restored to its throne. "I'll pick you up at 5 tomorrow, seeing as you have nothing else to do," was his comment upon the contents of the envelope, and I seethed inwardly. He hadn't forgotten the date he'd snuck out of me before the kidnapping had happened. Damn.

Well, I decided that I'd give him a night to remember, and tell him off a bit, too. I tossed the envelope aside, and picked up the one from Nicolette.

"Saved the best for last, bossie!" Nicolette chirped.

I decided on the package first; less likely to contain insults on paper. The box contained an assortment of throwing knives and a sharpener. "My hubby thought you might like 'em, being the legendary Brigadier General Marshall's daughter and all! But the real present from me is in the envelope, bossie!" Nicolette's smile grew wider when I picked up the envelope.

As I had guessed, the entire envelope was an insult. Besides a very rude card that was decorated in smiley faces and hearts, there was a map of Central, with all of the Red Light Districts highlighted. I tried my best not to pick up one of the throwing knives and sever Nicolette's corroded artery, but my hands still clenched into balls as the map fluttered to the ground. I took a deep breath. "Please, excuse me a moment," I managed between my teeth.

In the hallway I punched the wall hard, causing several picture frames to shake. I took a breath and leaned against the wall, my forehead pressed under a picture of Miklos without the jagged scar smiling from a fishing boat.

The door opened and closed, but the person now standing behind me didn't make a sound, so I ignored them. I could feel the tears of hate and frustration itching to burst free, but I wouldn't allow it.

"Are you alright?" It was not Jean who stood behind me, as I'd hoped, but Lt. Hawkeye.

I turned to face the blonde woman and forced a smile. "I'm just peachy. It doesn't matter that Nicolette took her opinion of me and put it down on paper, it doesn't matter that the person I would have loved a present from the most didn't get me one, it doesn't matter that I'm probably never going to go back to my home, and it doesn't matter that I'm... I'm pregnant!" My vision was blurred, but I didn't move, didn't try and wipe away the tears that were coming. I didn't care what this woman thought of me.

A firm hand clasped around my upper arm and I followed where it pulled me without much thought. I was too absorbed in the sorrows of my life. If it was just one less, I could have held it in, but because of the sheer number, they'd cracked me.

I was taken upstairs, and led into a bedroom, pushed onto the bed, and the arm was gone. "Stay in here until you can collect yourself." And she was gone.

I don't know how long I sat in the room. But I worked out many of my problems and sorrows. I had scanned the room the moment my eyes had cleared, and seen three things: A wrapped package on the dresser, a crib next to the wall, partially blocked by the open closet door, and a series of three pictures on the wall.

What had me upset was not Nicolette; it was her brazen approach to her dislike of what had happened to me. It was not that Havoc hadn't gotten me a birthday present, it was that he thought moving me to a different safe house was the birthday present I wanted most. It was not that I was pregnant... okay, it _was_ that I was pregnant, but it was also that my father was gone.

Nicolette had said that her husband had thought to get me knives, because that had been my father's choice weapon. And he'd been famous for his skills with those knives after the Ishbalan war had ended. I hadn't though much of my father in the past months, and that filled me with guilt. What would my father say to me now?

His sentiments would have echoed those of Jean; anger that I hadn't fought harder, and a desire to see the little life snuffed out before it ever had a chance to take a breath, but more than that disappointment that I hadn't taken care of myself, would be disappointment that I wasn't happy.

After working that out, I had investigated the objects further. The three pictures all had bows tied around them, and in the picture frame was a card: _Miklos made a few calls, I had them framed. -Crystal_.

The first was a picture of my father, his green eyes filled with happiness as he helped haul in a fish. He couldn't have been more that 17, and his best friend, my second father, sat in the boat next to him. The second was a picture of my father and mother on their wedding day, my father's hair was perfect, something I'd never seen on him until his funeral, and again, his eyes were filled with joy. As were my mother's. The last was a little girl of no more than eight with long black hair pulled into twin French braids, and green eyes. She was smiling and waving at the camera. Her other hand clutched the hand of somebody who wasn't completely in the shot. Half of his person was visible, and the top of his head was cut off. My father had recently returned from a mission and was taking my mother & I out to celebrate. My mother, who was obsessed with a camera had taken as many shots as she could, none of which had turned out wonderfully.

All three of the pictures had come from my father's living quarters, I knew because I'd seen them taped to the wall above his headboard on the several occasions I'd visited.

I took a deep breath, crying would get me nowhere. My father was gone, I was twenty-seven years old, damn it! I should be able to deal with the loss better than a teenager.

The wrapped package had an envelope stuck to the top. I pulled it off and opened it. The card was plain white with the words 'Happy Birthday' printed on the front in various bright colors.

_Amunet,_

_I didn't know what to get you, but I figure that the move was the best birthday present I could have come up with; still, here is a little something extra. I know the originals were important to you._

_Jean_

Intrigued and ridiculously happy that Jean had gotten me something, I pulled back the wrapping and found a stack of new dishes. Puzzled, I moved back to the bed and folded my legs under me as I stared at the dishes in question. I had a bowl in my hands, and I saw that they were almost identical to my mother's dishes... the dishes that I'd lost when my apartment had been broken into, the dishes I'd used since birth. The only difference was that instead of the cream color of old dishes that have accumulated stains, these dishes were white.

He was correct, the originals _had_ been important to me. They were my mother's, the only thing I had left of her. But... I'd simply mentioned it in passing a long, long time ago, during a very awkward breakfast that had followed a cemetery visit. Of course he'd been in my apartment, and must have seen the scattered remains of the dishes in the kitchen while looking for me.

But, had he really remembered? What an odd notion. I couldn't wrap my head around it, but I was very happy that he'd given these dishes to me. I didn't know why, but figured it could do with the same reason they'd been important to me before. My mother, one of only two people I had cared for deeply, had given me the originals and these new ones Jean had given me, the only person I currently cared for at all. But, I knew these would be the only things I'd be able to hold on to. Jean wouldn't want anything to do with a baby that wasn't his.

And suddenly it hit me, this night might be the last I see of Jean, ever. I set the bowl down on the bed and frantically dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Crystal had gone to bed, Nicolette and Hawkeye had gone home, but the three men sat around the kitchen table, several empty beer and wine bottles on the table between them. Miklos was completely undecipherable between the drunken slur and the accent. Mustang looked me over with a smirk, seemingly unaffected by the alcohol. Jean noticed me in the door and grinned widely at me with glazed over eyes, and his eyes did not leave me as I walked to the table, extricated the remaining alcohol from each of their grasps and came to stand in front of the three.

"Ha'ee Brf'deh M'nt!" Miklos took my hand and shook it. "Weh f'llers...git yeh 'ome..." Only parts of his rather long speech were recognizable, but when he staggered to the counter and grabbed car keys, I intervened.

"I'll take them home, Miklos, you go upstairs to bed," I forced the keys from his giant hands and pointed out the kitchen door. He nodded, hiccupped and left.

"Personal chauffer," Mustang purred getting to his feet. He was a bit wobbly as he walked towards me and hooked his arm around mine.

Jean outright glared at the Colonel, staggered to his feet and grabbed my other arm, his smoldering cigarette forgotten in the ashtray on the table. "Hands off, Mustang," Havoc slurred and gave my arm a light tug, attempting to pull me from the Colonel's arm. I slipped from between the two and moved to the doorway before it could escalate.

"Okay, both of you, in the car. I'm taking you home."

Jean insisted on sitting in the front next to me, and so the Colonel sat behind me, his white gloved hand playing drunkenly with my hair. Every time I pulled it out of reach, he just pulled it right back. I had to give up because I needed to focus on driving. Jean didn't notice Mustang, or there certainly would have been a drunken brawl between the seats and the three of us would have crashed. Instead he was still gazing dumbly at me, and his hand kept inching toward mine.

As I shifted into third gear about two streets from where Mustang lived, Havoc caught my hand and grinned at me, "You're beautiful."

"That's nice Jean, but I need to focus on driving," I felt bad as I pulled my hand from his and he retreated against the window, looking out of it and sulking.

Mustang burst into a fit of giggles and my hair lay forgotten against the seat.

"Now where do I turn?"

Strangely lucid for the amount of alcohol he had consumed, and the fits of laughter he was prone to in the drunken state, he pointed me right to his apartment.

I cut the engine and took a deep breath.

Now to get him inside.

I got out of the car and found that Mustang was already at the door, which surprised me. He waved me over, and stupidly, I went. When I was as close as I wanted to be, he pulled me closer. I could smell the alcohol on him. "Happy Birthday Amunet. I'll pick you up at five tomorrow," he leaned forward and pecked my cheek before disappearing into the building.

I could hear Jean trying in his drunken rage to figure out how to open the door and chase after Mustang. I glared after the man, and then hurried back to the car, afraid Jean might resort to shattering the window and crawling through.

Once back in the car, I looked over at the drunken man, who seemed to be deciding whether to continue with the efforts of chasing Mustang, or confront me about it.

"You okay, Jean?" I asked.

He gave me a quick glare and returned to sulking against the door, Mustang apparently forgotten.

I started the car up again, partially glad that I didn't have to listen to any intoxicated banter as I drove to Jean's apartment.

He was far less capable than Mustang had been as he spilled onto the concrete when I opened the passenger door. Supporting a person who was several inches taller, and a few pounds heavier was difficult, and I was not looking forward to dragging him up two flights of stairs to reach his apartment.

As we worked our way up those stairs, Jean was exceedingly quiet, but he did manage to move his feet for himself, which was a nice bonus I had not expected.

At his door, he was still ignoring me. "Jean, I need the key."

"'s in m'pockit," he reluctantly gave me, but made no move to retrieve it.

"Can I have the key?"

"You want't so bad, you git't," He glared at me with less intensity than he had in the car, and I knew it was a dare.

"Men are so stupid when they're drunk. You know that?" I growled at him as I shoved my hand into the closest pocket and was relieved that I didn't have to go digging in any others. I pulled the key out, inserted it into the lock, turned the door handle and allowed Jean to stagger in. He held onto the door and looked back at me, frowning.

"Sorry I'm stup'd," he muttered, "I jus'... jus' like you a'ot. An' Mustang's sucha ass." He looked down at the ground, and I had the impression of a scolded puppy as he stood there, swaying slightly.

"It's okay, Jean," I told him, stepping into the apartment myself. I wanted to make sure he got into bed okay. "Let's get you to bed."

I closed the door, and watched him sway slightly as he tried to stay balanced. So, still supporting him, but not as heavily, we worked our way around the couch into his bedroom. He immediately flopped onto the bed. Unfortunately, he was holding onto the front of my shirt for support and pulled me down on top of him.

"Jean!" I gasped in surprise, pushing myself up so that I could glare down at him.

He smiled dreamily and put a hand to my cheek. "I th'nk I love you, Amunet," He told me. "An'... an' I jus' don wanna see you hur'..." As he spoke he craned his neck forward, and the rest of his sentence was lost as his lips met mine.

I was startled by his proclamation, but couldn't find anything wrong with it, and I kissed him back. I lowered myself down so that my arms weren't supporting me anymore. Jean had wrapped his other arm around my waist in an attempt to keep me from pulling away. It snaked its way up so that his palm touched bare skin under my shirt.

I knew where this was going, and pulled away reluctantly. "Jean... Jean, I can't."

"Why?"

"Jean. You're drunk and I'm pregnant. We can't."

Unhappily he released my waist, pulling his hand out from under my shirt. I stood up and looked down at him, lying on the bed unhappily and... undeniably drunk. I didn't know if he meant what he'd said. I wanted to believe. "But..." Jean was frantically trying to make up an excuse, I could tell.

I leaned down and kissed him again, running my hand along the stubble on the side of his face. When I began to pull away, he followed until he was perched precariously on the bed. Had his balance been good, he could have managed not to fall, but in his intoxicated state, he didn't manage the feat.

He found himself kissing the floor, his chest on top of my feet. I helped him up, attempting very hard not to laugh. Once he was back on his bed he sighed, defeated. He took my hand and started to drift off into sleep. "I love you Amunet."

"I love you too, Jean," I whispered as his hand relaxed in mine. I couldn't help myself, before I left, I kissed him one more time, placed the keys on his bedside table, and locked the door as I left.

It didn't matter that he was drunk. _I_ was not, and I knew what I'd said was true, whether or not he'd heard the words.

A mixture of bliss and resentment filled me in equal parts as I drove back to the Reznik's. Bliss because I'd kissed the man I loved, and resentment that everything had happened while he had been intoxicated.

Chances were he wouldn't remember the night. But I would.

* * *

_Havoc fluff~! :3 I told you there would be some, you just had to be patient. Of course... Jean _is_ drunk..._

_Alas, Amu's date with Mustang is giving me a headache. So... yeah... I've been chiselling away at the next chapter for a little over three months... so... yeah. Um... don't expect it for quite some time because..._

_Z is doing NaNoWriMo. Which means no chapters during November, at all. Sorry. Z actually wants to try for 50,000 words this year. :D_

_This story is getting close to the end, though. We've got Mustang's date (chapter), Amu's decision (chapter), Consequences (chapter, maybe two). And of course, a time skip in there somewheres. And maybe an epilogue, too. ;P But I'll decide that after I've wrapped up the rest of the story. XD_

_Pwease review? It'll make Z a happy authoress, and possibly help her to finish the next chapter!_

_Peace. Z._


	22. Date

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Dates and Decisions**

Five o'clock the next day came much too fast. I'd helped Crystal clean up the mess left from the night before, taken my presents up into my temporary room. I couldn't help but laugh at the differences in my room; a baby's cradle, with a box of throwing knives sitting next to it. A .9 mm gun on the dresser next to a new set of dishes. Two concert tickets next to a map (that Crystal had told me not to throw away because Nicolette meant well).

Several times over the course of the day, I felt like Crystal's daughter. She treated me much like a teenager, and I was too tired and dreading the night that I didn't mind, until Crystal came up with dresses for my date. Reluctantly, I tried each one on for her and chose one to make her leave.

That was how I came to sit in the kitchen at five that night awaiting the stony-eyed Colonel to come pick me up.

Of course, the knock on the door came way too soon. It was barely 5:01. No time for me to get up hopes that he might not show up.

"You look stunning," the colonel purred when I opened the door and thrust the concert tickets at him.

"That's wonderful, Colonel. Let's get this over with," I pulled the front door closed behind me.

"Roy."

"Excuse me?"

Stony eyes fixed on me and he half grinned, half smirked at me from under his bangs. "We're on a date, _Amunet_. Please give me the courtesy of using my first name."

"Fine. Roy, are we going to a concert or are we going to stand on the Rezniks' front porch for a couple hours?"

"The neighbors might think us strange, but if you'd rather stand on the porch, it can be arranged," He moved closer to me with a smirk on his face.

I took a step away from him and off the porch. "To the festival!"

"If you insist," Mustang purred and walked me to the car. Opening the door for me and stepping aside, Mustang revealed that his driver was Jean. My cheeks heated up as I pulled myself into the back of the car, ignoring the pair of them.

"Hello Miss Marshall," Jean prompted, his blue eyes flashing in the rearview mirror, holding my gaze for a fraction of a second before darting away.

"2nd Lt. Havoc," I responded with an inclination of my head.

The car ride was very quiet, the silence thick and unsettling. Mustang watched me closely as I attempted to look out the window without showing the apprehension I felt.

"Where are we going?" I asked finally.

"A summer solstice festival."

"Oh... I thought we were going to a..." I trailed off as the car came to a halt. A large chateau sat next to a lake. The old building was beginning to crumble away and vines had claimed three quarters of the walls, leaving a very earthly look to the place. A crowd of people stood at one end of the lake admiring the white birds that floated tranquilly in the water.

Roy came around and opened my door to let me out. "It's beautiful," I breathed.

"I do hope you remembered the tickets, Amunet," Mustang told me as he escorted me forward.

"I'm not an idiot, Roy. I have the tickets," I pulled them out of my purse and handed them over before wandering to the lake to admire the swans.

The festival was amazing. We were split into a group of women and a group of men. Our faces were drawn on with charcoal in elegant swirls and walked in circles around each person with a handful of burning incense. Individually, we were set along a path through trees that eclipsed the pink sky.

Haunting music played in throughout the place as dancers jumped from behind the trees and caught each of us up in dance. At the end of the path, a man sat tied to a tree full of hanging paper flowers. He greeted me with a warm smile. He stopped me and touched my forehead with gentle fingers. "Wait," he whispered and floated to the tree, plucked off a paper flower and handed it to me.

"Enjoy the celebration of summer," he waved me forward, the paper flower still pressed into my palm.

Roy stood waiting for me, a look of amusement of his face. "Amunet," he offered me his arm, which I hooked onto. The pair of us strode forward slowly.

"Have you read your fortune?" Roy asked as the paper flower crinkled in my hand.

"My fortune?" I asked, confused.

He chuckled softly, "Have you never heard the children's story of the Fortune Tree?"

I shook my head, "That sounds like a fairytale."

"It is. Would you like to hear it?"

I glared at him. "No Roy. I'm not curious _at all_."

"Well, if you insist. At the heart of some forest is said to be a giant tree filled with flowers, and each flower holds the fate of one man. Hearing of this, one young woman set out to find the tree, in hopes she could learn who her true love was.

"When she found the tree, the tree spirit greeted her. He touched her forehead and then retrieved her flower. After listening to her fate, she became entranced by the names she learned. 'Oh tree spirit, may I hear the fates of the people I will know?' She begged.

"'No. Each fate is for the person, and that is all.' The spirit departed. Ignoring the spirit, she climbed the tree, plucked the flowers from the tree and listened until no flowers remained; they all floated on the water around the tree.

"And she wept and wept and wept, for there were no more fates for her to read. The spirit of the tree in the form of a handsome young man appeared in the water and picked up the young woman's flower. He listened to the flower and then pressed the flower into her hand, 'Why are you sad when your flower is full of joy?' the spirit asked.

"'Because I have no more fates to hear!' The woman replied. 'Mine is so boring and these are so interesting!'

"The spirit looked around him at the scattered flowers for the first time, and up at the tree which was bare. He became angry with the woman. 'You were only the hear your own fate, not that of others!' From thin air he summoned string. 'You will fix what you have done, you selfish woman! Tie every flower back to the tree with this string and then I will decide whether to let you leave or not!'

"The woman refused and attempted to leave, but the spirit had bound her to the tree. So, with the promise of freedom, she began work on putting the flowers back on the tree. Soon after she had finished, a man came by the tree. The spirit appeared in the form of a young woman, touched the man's forehead and proceeded to the location the flower had been on the tree. Only to find it missing.

"'You stupid woman! Where is this man's flower?' It demanded, and the woman pulled the flower from the tree. And, until the day that every person whose flower the woman had picked left this earth, she was bound to the tree, eternally young. When the last flower wilted and fell from the string, she was released, and her flower was put back into the tree. But she knew nobody that lived in the new time, and she hung herself from the branches.

"To this day, if you find the real tree, apparently you will see the woman hanging in amongst the flowers, serving as a reminder to ask for only your own fate. Of course, the trees they create for the summer solstice have advice and proverbs instead of actual people's fates. But kids still love it," Roy finished.

"What a depressing story," I mused.

"But it teaches the value of being content with oneself," Roy told me with a shrug.

We were seated in the grass overlooking the lake in among other couples and families. "I guess... But I've never heard that story..." I was cut off as floats began to appear on the lake, carrying people.

The show lasted well into the night. When we arrived at the Reznik's house, Roy walked me to the door.

"Amunet, it's not official, but my team will be moving to Eastern Headquarters sometime in the near future," Mustang said nonchalantly.

"And?" I asked.

"You can't base your decision about abortion on feelings you may hold for 2nd Lt. Havoc."

"Excuse me?"

"Havoc asked me to order you to get an abortion because he believes it to be unhealthy for you to keep it. However, I do not have the authority, nor the mind to try and control a woman in that way. So, I'm telling you that Havoc may not be around Central much longer."

"What makes you think I have feelings for Jean?" I asked.

"My mistake. Good night Miss Marshall," all seriousness evaporated as he departed with a thin smirk.

Before entering the house, I looked down at the little flower I still hadn't read.

_Sometimes burdens are the best gifts._

I crumpled up the flower and threw it away from myself as hard as I could. Burdens are _never_ gifts.

* * *

_Gah... Well... It's here..._

_And the whole Fortune Tree thing... The actual tree & person tied to the tree with tied on flowers came from an actual summer solstice festival I went to in the Czech Republic (as did all other aspects of the festival Amu & Roy went to). However, the story behind it... I made up... because I couldn't find the actual story that goes with the tree... So... yes..._

_Oh! And good news. I finished~! There are a total of 24 chapters in this story. (23 if you don't count the epilogue). Which means... we're only 2 chapters from the end... :( But, it's been a good run, and, personally, I love the ending! :3_

_Peace. Z._


	23. Delivery

_Well, hello all! :D This is the last "official" chapter of _It's Okay To Cry_, so I thought I'd put the author's note at the beginning, because, well, quite frankly... you'll want to flame me at the end. I'm sorry it's so short, and after spending a year and a half on this story... I envisioned a happier ending. But, it keeps Amunet in character, and isn't Mary Sue-ish in nature._

_Please, feel free to vent your anger and frustration towards me in a review. There's a nifty button at the bottom of the chapter. ;3_

_Peace. Z._

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* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-Three: Delivery**

The next six months passed without hide or hair of either Jean or Roy. Hawkeye was an occasional sight within the coffee shop, "coincidentally" on days that either Nicolette or Miklos was absent. My stomach swelled with my continued indecision. At several points I was a single swallow away from ending my pregnancy, but I could never go through with it.

And then, one day, my water broke, and Miklos rushed me to the hospital. I was placed in a bed to await my fate: I was going to be a mother whether I liked it or not. Miklos and Crystal were present as I pushed through one birth, and the doctors told me I had to do it a second time. Lucky me. _Twins._

When it was all said and done, I ached all over, and Crystal sat beside my bed holding twin boys.

"What will you name them, Amu?" Crystal asked me. "They're so cute."

I looked upon the things with resentment. As soon as they'd come out of my body I knew. I knew I was going to smother them. Both of them. And then my problems would go away. I had known what I was going to call one of them for a long time. Drystan or 'tumult'. But the other; it just left a sour taste in my mouth, like Sorrel. "Drystan and Sorrell."

"Which is which?" Crystal asked, oblivious to the way I spat out the names.

"Doesn't matter." I grumbled, and turned to look out the window.

"Now don't be that way, Amu," Crystal chided, "These boys are entirely dependent on you. You can't hate them."

"I don't want them!" I screamed.

A nurse rushed in and told Crystal to leave because she was disturbing me. I was then forced to feed the babies before the nurse left.

When the sun finally set, and nurses weren't checking in on me as frequently, I saw my chance. I grabbed one of my pillows and placed it over the head of the closest baby.

"You don't want to do that." Mustang stood in the doorway.

"Oh? And why not?" I glared at the Colonel with as much hatred as I could.

Mustang crossed the room and removed the pillow. "What's his name?"

"Don't distract me. Why shouldn't I kill them?"

"Because you will never be with Havoc."

"How do you know? If I get rid of them, then there's nothing stopping me," I growled.

"Didn't you notice that he was absent today?"

"He doesn't approve of me having them."

"Why haven't you seen him in six months?"

"Why haven't I seen _you_ in six months?" I countered.

"You detest me," Mustang smirked, picking up the little monster with a tenderness I thought he didn't possess.

"So?"

"So, you _don't_ detest Havoc. And yet, if he felt for you the way you feel towards him, why has he not come to visit?"

"I... I don't know," I admitted.

"So I repeat, what's his name?"

"Drystan."

Mustang held the baby out at arm's length. "Well Drystan. You and your brother keep your mother company. And don't let her kill you." He handed me the baby before picking up the other.

"And you protect your brother from your mother."

With both babies in my arms, Mustang stood over me. "These two are all you have in life. Havoc is going with me to Eastern Command. I won't let you interfere with my plan any longer."

"What plan?"

"It doesn't matter. You'll regret killing these two, because then you will be all alone in this world."

"But I love Jean, and he'll be there for me if I get rid of them!"

"You're not listening Amunet. Havoc is leaving Central."

"I'll go with him!"

"No. You will stay here and care for these children. Goodbye Amunet. We will not be seeing each other again. _Nor_ will you see 2nd Lt. Havoc again." He went to the door, but paused before leaving. "Also, the problem of your tormentors has been solved. You may go back to living on your own."

He left me alone, and I cried all night long, my plans of murder forgotten as I hugged Drystan and Sorrell to my chest.

In the morning, I left the hospital and went to Jean's apartment, but it was empty. And I was alone, except for the gifts a monster had left to me. Sadly, all that was left in my life. And I cried on the floor in front of the door. Once again, I had lost everyone I loved.

Numbly, I stood, and turned away from the door; leaving behind my hope of a happy life with a man I loved, and turning into the life of single motherhood.

Utterly alone. With no love for the things I now had to care for. And in reality, it was all because of my father; the statement in my father's letter:

_Do not trust the military._


	24. Epilogue

_In the manga, Jean does end up in a wheelchair. And sorry the timeline kind of went AU... but I thought this made a nice epilogue, and the boys had to be old enough to speak._

_

* * *

_

**Epilogue: Return**

"Amunet Marshall?"

Almost four years. Four whole years since I'd seen this man. Since he'd refused my wishes and left with my hopes. And now he stood before me, rain pouring down outside.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Momma, who is at the door?" Sorrell, my ever curious son, asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"An old friend, honey. Go back to sleep."

Sorrell looked up at the figure looming in the doorway. The steel gray eyes of the man met Sorrell's mottled olive ones in a look of surprise.

"Sorrell. That means sour," he stated, watching my son.

I ignored the Colonel and bent to my son, "Sorrell, go make sure your brother is still asleep, okay?"

"Okay, mama." His brown shaggy head retreating into one of the back rooms of the apartment.

"A very interesting choice of names, Amunet. Your other son's name in Drystan, correct?"

"You still remember from the hospital, I see. What do you want?"

"A favor is all, Amunet."

"After four years. You leave me with two babies that I would have loved to drown, and you expect me to give you a favor?"

"But you didn't."

"Didn't what?" I asked.

"Didn't drown them. Their names are lacking in loving nature, but you're raising them."

"They're all I have. You took the man I love away."

"And that is who I ask a favor for," Mustang took a step into the room and closed the door behind him. He hung up his jacket as I glared at him.

"What does Jean want?"

"He's been injured in the line of work."

"Is he okay?"

"He's lost use of his legs, and was discharged from the military."

"What do you want me to do about that? I'm no alchemist."

"No, but he is in the hospital, and I think seeing you will help him keep going."

I turned away, and noticed my twin boys peering around their bedroom door curiously. A wave of hatred came over me as I looked at their innocent faces. If not for them, for their _father_, I would probably be living happily with Jean.

But, that life had died before it was ever born. Those two small children were my life now, and my fiancé was off on a business trip.

I played with the gold ring on my left hand out of nervous habit as I answered him. "I'm engaged, Colonel. I have two children. I can't go running off to a love that was never meant to be. I'm sorry. Please, just go."

The man shouldered his coat once more. "As you wish, Miss Marshall. You shall not see from me again." He showed himself out, and I collapsed on the couch. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't run back to Jean. He hadn't wanted me to have my boys in the first place. And, it'd been almost four years. There was no way he could still love me. There was no way I should still love him.

"Momma?" Two sets of olive eyes looked up at me. One of the boys held a small slip of paper. "The man dropped this on the floor," Sorrell handed it to me. It was the address of Jean's hospital.

"Thank you, Sorrell."

"Are you okay?" Sorrell asked, climbing onto my lap. He pulled his twin up next to him and the two of them hugged me.

"I'm fine. I just... I don't know, boys. Do you like Dan?"

Sorrell looked up at me, "No."

"Why not?"

"He takes you away from us and leaves us with a mean babysitter!"

"But I thought you liked the babysitter."

Both heads shook rapidly. "No! No! No! She's mean!"

"Let's get you two to bed, okay? We have to go to work tomorrow."

* * *

Sorrell and Drystan played in the corner of the kitchen of my coffee shop as I prepared chocolate covered straggle muffins. "Momma?"

"Mm?" I asked, pulling the muffins from the oven.

"There's a really short man at the counter! He's got a stick in his mouth!"

I looked up and nearly dropped the pan. At the front counter, in a wheelchair, a cigarette in his mouth, shaggy blonde hair, unshaven face, and dull blue eyes, sat Jean. "Can I get one of those banana muffins and a coffee?" He asked, not paying any attention to me, he gazed at one of the muffins of the top shelf, where he could no longer reach.

"Of-of course." I pulled a muffin down and made a cup of coffee for him.

"Thanks," He looked at the food of the counter and over at a table.

"Sorrell, can you help this man with his coffee?" I asked my son, handing him the cup.

Looking slightly embarrassed, Jean followed the child over to a table.

"Hey mister? Why are you in a chair?" Sorrell chirped.

"Sorrell Marshall, don't annoy our customers. What have I told you about asking questions?"

"Not to," Sorrell replied, placing the coffee on the table and running back to me.

Jean looked up and really considered me for several moments. I turned away and went back to icing the straggle muffins to hide the disgusting greenish hew. I did my best to ignore him, keeping myself busy. Customers came and went, but Jean just sat by the table, staring out the window in a trance. At lunch, Miklos came into the shop, bearing sandwiches.

"Uncle Miklos!" The twins cried happily running around the counter to greet him. Jean turned to look, and his expression shifted from distant to disbelieving.

"I brou' lunch!" Miklos declared, turning to pick a table. "Oh, hallo there Lt. Havic. Hear' you were releas'."

Havoc was not looking at Miklos however; he was moving his gaze between my children and I. "Amunet...?"

"Hi Jean," I smiled weakly.

"You didn' know he wa' here?" Miklos asked, confused.

"Can you take the boys with you this afternoon?"

"Of course."

The three of them left, Havoc still in a state of shock. I walked over and sat down across from him. "Mustang came by yesterday night and told me you were injured," I told him, hoping to keep the talk away from four years ago.

He nodded.

"So, how have you been, Jean?"

"Busy. And fine. Nothing to complain about until now," That hurt me in a way I thought nothing ever could since he'd been transferred. "And you?"

"I kept them," I said, smiling weakly. Jean glowered towards the door.

"You shouldn't have. They're monsters."

"My children aren't monsters! Just because their father was doesn't mean they are!" I growled.

Jean just moved his glower to me. "You chose them over me."

I could feel tears coming to my eyes. "I didn't choose, Jean. I was _forced_. The night they were born, I was going to suffocate them as they slept. But Mustang stopped me. He told me I'd regret it, because you were leaving. Everyone had been transferred to Eastern Command because of a new alchemist!"

I saw the first tear leave a dot on the green tablecloth. I stroked the spot where I usually spun my engagement ring, but skin met skin, and I had to force down a wave of hatred for all men.

"I went to East City. I looked for you. But nobody would let me see you. Mustang told me you didn't want to see me; that I should go back to my children... that I should forget about you."

Jean still glared at me suspiciously. "Why didn't you come see me in the hospital then?"

I shook my head and wiped my eyes, "You don't understand Jean. It's been _four years_. My life has changed. I can't run off after you when I've got kids to worry about."

I rested my hand on the tablecloth and Jean snatched my hand, examining my fingers. "You were engaged." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. I looked at my finger, where the faint band of lighter skin betrayed that it had been hidden by a ring.

"I was. I... left him yesterday," I couldn't look at Jean. To be honest, I'd tried to see Jean the previous day, but Dan, my fiancé, had forbid it. After a woman came calling for him, I'd just snapped and decided marriage to him was not what I'd wanted. His cheating on me was only part of it; I realized that I wanted to be married to Jean.

"Why?"

I took my hand back from his and stood up. "I know I have an ash tray around here somewhere."

Jean's wheels creaked as he followed me. "Why did you leave him Amunet?" He caught my hand and spun me around. I looked down into his blue eyes and broke.

"Because I'm stupid!" I cried, falling into Jean's lap and wrapping my arms around him. "Even though he was cheating on me, I'm still so stupid!" I took a breath, "I still love you, and I hoped you still loved me, and... you'd be able to accept my kids... and... and... I'm just so stupid. He loved me Jean, and I broke his heart in hopes that I still had yours." I cried into his shoulder. He patted my back lightly.

"You're not stupid for leaving him."

"Yes I am! The boys finally had a father figure and now he's gone! I should have forgiven him... I'm so stupid."

"It's okay."

"No it's not! I love my boys and I should do what's best for them. Even if I love you, you hate them. I can't have all three of you."

His hand left my back. "Amunet..."

I looked up, sniffling slightly.

"Don't waste your love on me. I'm not worth it."

"What are you talking about? Of course you're worth it."

"No, I'm not." Jean looked away as I stood up. "I'm broken."

"When I was broken, you put me back together, Jean." I told him, taking his hands. How easily I forgot about Dan when the man I loved was suffering... "You can't give up on yourself, Jean."

"I'm leaving for my parents' general store in the morning. I'll write to you when I get there, okay?"

He took his hands back from me and rolled towards the door.

"Jean?"

"Yeah?" He turned back around, and I covered the distance. I bent down and kissed him. His smoldering cigarette fell into his lap as he reached up to stroke my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and sat down into his lap. We sat entwined for a long time, kissing one another, learning each other's mouths.

I pulled away, "Don't take too long, okay?"

He held me as close as he could to his chest, the way he had when he'd stood on two legs.

"I won't."

Standing, I allowed my hand to stay wrapped in his. "I still love you Jean."

He shook his head slightly, and smiled, "As long as you're wasting your love on a broken man, I'm glad it's me. I love you, too, Amunet."

"Goodbye Jean."

"Goodbye Amunet."

I bent and gave him one last squeeze before he rolled out of my coffee shop door, leaving me behind again. And yet, I was still the happiest I had been in four years.


End file.
